


Instinct

by menel



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Airplane Crashes, Alien Technology, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Mission Fic, Missions Gone Wrong, Savage Land (Marvel), Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: When Scott Summers crashes in the Savage Land, he finds himself dealing with the usual challenges: fighting dinos and other predators, meeting hostile natives, and generally trying to stay alive. But when he’s saved by a stranger with razor claws and a healing factor, everything changes. Now Scott and his new friend – plus some old friends – have to find a way off of the Forbidden Island, but nothing is as straightforward as it seems.Written for the Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 69
Kudos: 180
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019





	1. Unlikely Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to [CrowSizna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowSizna/pseuds/CrowSizna) for her incredibly inspirational artwork. It was an absolute pleasure collaborating with you. I hope we get to collaborate again in the future. 
> 
> The awesome beta job was done by [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame) who took on waaay more work than she was expecting in such a short period of time. She was my cheerleader, as well as my beta reader, who went above and beyond the call of duty. (And as a bonus, she's into Scogan now. \o/) Any remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Finally, this fic takes elements from Frank Cho's _Savage Wolverine_ No. 1-5.

Wolverine heard the explosions before he saw anything; two loud pops that made his body tense as he zeroed in on the sound. He saw another one of those objects falling out of the sky. This one was black. Sleek. It wasn’t the same as the others he had seen before. Not that he had seen many of the flying objects. He followed its trajectory until it disappeared into the tree line. He heard the crash, saw the smoke trailing from where the object had hit the earth. Those flying objects were usually occupied. Most of the time those occupants didn’t survive the crash, but sometimes . . . 

Without really realizing it, Wolverine began moving in the direction of the smoke.

* * *

Scott Summers, otherwise known as Cyclops, the leader of the X-Men, had been cruising peacefully one moment, falling out of the sky in the next. First one engine had cut out, then the other. Two explosions signaled that the mag-gravs had failed. Communications were down. The primary computer was offline, the secondary systems were not responding. Scott grimaced and remembered his training. To another pilot, it might have been worrying, even panic inducing, to have to crash land a plane. But Scott Summers needed almost all his fingers to count the number of times he’d done this before. This would be his ninth. That didn’t mean he was a bad pilot. Far from it. It simply meant that he was often put in situations where he wound up having to crash land a plane. It was part of the job description. 

Scott angled the Blackbird’s nose, free gliding her as best as he could. He surveyed the area below him. Jungle. This was not going to be a pretty landing. He spotted the clearing as he neared the ground. He thought he could make it, using the trees and foliage as a means to slow the Blackbird’s speed and break the fall. The angle at which he was descending wasn’t too steep. The idea had merit. It was executing it that would be the challenge. 

The nose hit the treetops first. Scott’s brace held secure, even as the impact flung him forward. Momentum took the Blackbird through the trees, her sharp angles cutting through the canopy like a knife. Branches scraped along the jet’s sides; vines were snapped. Scott instinctively pulled back on the brakes, knowing they wouldn’t respond but feeling the need to do something anyway. The jet broke through the trees, clearing the edge of the jungle as the Blackbird’s belly now bounced on the terrain. The jungle had slowed enough of their momentum. Luckily, the clearing followed a gradual incline and this, coupled with the lessened speed, was enough to bring the Blackbird to a groaning halt. 

_Not bad_ , Cyclops thought with a sigh as he leaned back into his seat, his brace still holding him securely. He’d been in worse crashes.

* * *

When Wolverine made it to the edge of the clearing, following the canopy of smashed trees through the jungle, the flying object had come to a rest on the semi-hilly terrain, its front tip half-buried at the base of an incline. He kept his distance, unable to detect any movement inside the object. 

He was mistaken.

There was a groan of wrenching metal as the back of the black object opened like a gaping mouth. A moment later, he saw the legs of a man appear, and then the man himself emerged. He wasn’t clothed like the natives. Strangers never were, but this one wore a tight-fitting blue suit, like a second skin that covered his whole body, save for the gold around his groin and part of his chest. On his face was some kind of gold mask that wrapped around his eyes. He was tapping the black flying object with his hand. Wolverine didn’t understand what he was doing, but he kept on watching. The iron smell of blood didn’t carry downwind and the man didn’t look injured. He sniffed. Instead of blood, the downwind had brought a familiar scent to him. Predators. The clearing was a hunting ground. He looked back just in time to see three dinos approaching the back of the crashed object. They were medium-sized dinos, not too big for Wolverine to handle, but plenty big for a single man. The stranger was about to be turned into dino food. Shame. 

Normally, Wolverine made it a point not to get involved, but this stranger piqued his curiosity. Everything about him was different. He was about to leap out of his hiding spot and charge towards those dinos when a red beam arced through the air, followed by another, and another. Wolverine didn’t know what the red beam was, but he instinctively recognized a weapon – a _powerful_ weapon – when he saw it. It took him a moment to realize that the red beam had come from the stranger, who had fired three warning shots at the dinos’ feet. The dinos were surprised, but the show of force wasn’t enough to scare them away. They were a pack, and there was safety in numbers. They charged the fallen object, but it didn’t matter. The stranger wasn’t playing nice anymore, either. The next beam hit the first creature squarely in the chest, sending it hurtling yards away. The second beam did the same to the second creature. The third beam was the most powerful of them all, its force killing the third dino instantly. The first two creatures had been stunned by the blasts, but they were soon on their feet again. They began another charge, but stopped short when they saw their dead companion. Their cries filled the air as they spoke to one another. With a decision made, the remaining dinos turned around and fled.

Wolverine was impressed. He’d watched the fight closely. The man’s weapon came from his eyes, from the gold mask that he wore around his face. Even from this distance, Wolverine could see the red slit that glowed in the mask, a thin sliver of that red power still leaking from the stranger’s eyes like smoke from a fire. This man was deadly. A warrior. Wolverine felt an unusual sort of pride at the stranger’s accomplishments, as if those accomplishments had been his own. His first instinct had been correct. This man wasn’t like the others who had come before him, with their loud, boastful voices and weak pellet-like weapons. This man understood force, and power, and restraint. He was like Wolverine, and what Wolverine felt now was a form of kinship. He recognized his own kind. Where others had fallen in the Savage Land, this stranger would survive. Wolverine would make sure of it. He would watch over him, and he would wait, and perhaps one day . . . one day he would make himself known.

* * *

After the events of the first day, Scott settled into a routine. He’d miraculously come out of the crash unscathed. No major injuries. No broken ribs. Not even a concussion. After the attack of the dinos, it didn’t take him long to figure out that the clearing was a hunting ground. This was made immediately apparent by the herds of other dinosaurs of different types that would regularly cross the ground on their way to . . . well, wherever it was they were going. Scott debated the merits of staying near the Blackbird versus trying to find shelter elsewhere. He explored the surrounding area, particularly the jungle through which the Blackbird had carved a path. During these little excursions, he always had the feeling that he was being watched. He hadn’t caught sight of anyone yet – of any natives at all, though he was certain that they were around – but he just couldn’t shake the feeling. It was part of the reason that he decided to use the Blackbird as his base. Despite landing in a hunting ground, the Blackbird’s position could be fortified. She was near enough to the edge of the clearing and the jungle that she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. This was aided by the incline that largely kept her hidden from the main area of the clearing. Scott suspected that the dinos on the first day had been drawn by the sight and sounds of the crash. 

Unfortunately, the Blackbird wouldn’t fly again. Even if Scott had some of the tools to fix her, he didn’t have the materials or the parts to do so. Despite the crash, she was in relatively good shape. The fuselage had been recently reinforced and was completely intact. It provided good shelter. The stores at the back of the Blackbird had also survived the crash. Scott had rations (mostly MREs) to survive two weeks, even more if he was frugal about it. He wasn’t about to starve. There was plenty of game to be had if – _when_ – he decided to go hunting. The real problem was water. He had about a dozen bottles of distilled water. He’d have to be extra careful with water supplies until he could find a safe drinking supply.

It was while searching for a drinking supply that he finally came across his mysterious shadow. Scott had crossed the clearing to other side of the vegetation to find a stream, which he began using for collecting water and washing. On the third day, as he was stepping out of the stream to dry himself and get dressed (he’d stopped wearing his whole uniform, it was just too hot), he saw a man crouched on the other side of the stream. Scott froze, half in and half out of the water. He hadn’t heard the other man approach at all, but he was there. He was half obscured by the vegetation, but Scott could see that he was strong. Well-built. Stocky. Broad-shouldered. His eyes were trained solely on Scott with an intensity that probably should’ve been disturbing. Scott wasn’t sure what to do. The man didn’t look threatening. Intense, but not threatening. If he was the same person who had been shadowing Scott for the past few days, then so far there had been nothing in his actions to suggest that he was a threat. Maybe he was merely curious. Scott certainly was. This man was the only person he’d seen since he’d crashed. Scott had decided to make a gesture of greeting when a nearby rustle caught his attention. He glanced in the direction of the noise. When he looked back, the man was gone. Scott released a breath that he hadn’t even been aware of holding. He had a feeling that he’d see the man again, and the strong sense of relief that coursed through him took him by surprise. It was a relief to know that he wasn’t alone in this strange land.

Scott knew where he was – the Savage Land. This wasn’t his first time in the Savage Land either, but it was his first time in this particular area of the Savage Land. He’d been keeping track of the navigation when the Blackbird had gone down. At the time, he’d been flying over the area known as the Forbidden Island (wasn’t that ominous?) when the Blackbird’s systems had cut out. This part of the Savage Land was still unmapped. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been planning a geological survey for a while, but Scott knew that they still hadn’t gotten around to it, so his information on the area was practically non-existent. Even Ka-Zar and Shanna didn’t speak of the Forbidden Island.

Scott’s priority was getting the Blackbird’s communications up and running. He was stranded here until he could contact the outside world, and that was another reason why he made the crashed jet his base. It was what he spent most of his time on, which explains why, on the sixth day of his isolation, he’d been pre-occupied when he’d been attacked. Although he hadn’t encountered any natives – save for the man by the stream – it was logical to assume that there were natives on the island. Scott knew that there were tribes and villages on other parts of the Savage Land. Why should the Forbidden Island be any different? 

Unfortunately for him, the natives of the Forbidden Island were distinctly less friendly than their mainland counterparts. Their ambush was swift and almost silent. Scott put up a fight. Of course, he did. But there were just too many of them – he suspected that the group was a hunting party, judging by how well they were armed – and he didn’t want to destroy the Blackbird and the precious communications package in the process. The last image Scott saw before he was knocked unconscious was a large, muscular man carrying a spear and wearing a headdress looming over him.

* * *

Wolverine’s life adjusted with the arrival of the gold-masked stranger. He structured his days around the stranger’s comings and goings; he learned the other man’s routine. Mostly, he followed him around when he went exploring, and he was pleased when the stranger found the stream across the clearing. That would give him a fresh water supply. Wolverine wasn’t sure what the stranger was doing for food – he had yet to see him go hunting, though the stranger was certainly capable with his powerful weapon – but he clearly wasn’t starving. Maybe he had food stores inside his black habitation. The stranger spent a great deal of time inside the black structure, in the main body of his crashed flying object. Wolverine was curious to go inside, but he reined in his curiosity until an opportunity presented itself. 

One morning when the stranger was at the stream bathing (another activity that Wolverine enjoyed watching), he stayed behind and entered the black structure. It was sturdily made (though no match for his claws) from metals that he didn’t recognize. He looked around, but was careful not to touch anything, nor to leave any traces of his presence. He even removed his footprints that led to the hatch of the crashed object. The black structure was unremarkable to him, as alien and strange as its occupant, but Wolverine did like one thing about it. The man’s scent. It was everywhere. Wolverine had caught the stranger’s scent on the wind, but in this confined space it permeated everything. His scent comforted Wolverine somehow; it made him feel less alone. He’d been living a solitary existence for some time now. He couldn’t remember his life before the island. Wolverine memorized the scent; he soaked it in. He would recognize it anywhere now.

On the sixth day of the stranger’s arrival, Wolverine approached the flying structure and immediately knew that something was wrong. He didn’t have to go inside to see the signs of a struggle. He went inside anyway, searching for more clues. The metallic taste of blood was in the air. Knowing that the stranger was probably injured produced a growl out of him, and the urgency to find the other man spiked. The scent of the struggle was still fresh. Judging by the mingling scents and the tracks outside the black structure, a group of six natives had captured the stranger. A hunting party. Wolverine supposed it had only been a matter of time before the stranger’s landing site would’ve been discovered. The natives had probably seen the crash, just as he had, eventually going out to investigate when their path neared the area. Aside from the signs of a struggle, the inside of the black structure was largely untouched. It looked much like Wolverine remembered it, which meant that the natives hadn’t raided the stranger’s stores. Perhaps they hadn’t known what to make of the strange environment. Wolverine felt the same way.

He honed in on the contrasting scents, but especially the stranger’s scent that was ingrained in him now. When he stepped outside the habitation, he easily picked up the scent and the tracks. He followed the hunting party across the clearing and into the jungle. It didn’t take him long to figure out where the hunting party was going. They were headed back to their village. He’d have to intercept them before they arrived at their destination. Wolverine had had encounters with the natives before, and each encounter had been bloody. These tribesmen were a warlike people who had command over some of the animals in the area, particularly the flying beasts and the giant gorillas. He could take care of a hunting party, but an entire village was a different proposition. Worse, he didn’t know what kind of condition the stranger was in, and the goal was to get him out of harm’s way as quickly as possible. 

Wolverine doubled his pace, familiar with the trail that the hunting party was following. He cut them off at the narrow rocky pass that would lead into the valley where the village was located. The fight was fierce but short. He was stabbed several times by their spears, but sticks and stones were no match for adamantium. He cut the warriors down, leaving a bloody mess behind. When the hunting party would be discovered, there would be no doubt as to who had carved up these men. The villagers would even know where to find him. But Wolverine was betting that the village elders and the chief wouldn’t be foolish enough to seek retaliation. That _always_ ended badly.

The stranger had been bound to a pole, meant to be presented as a sacrifice. Wolverine had noticed that there had been more sacrifices of late. The natives were praying more, presenting more offerings. Sometimes the bonfires, the singing and the dancing carried on all night. He didn’t know the reason for all the extra worship. Turning his attention to the stranger, Wolverine gave him a quick inspection. The stranger appeared to be unharmed, save for some shallow cuts and a few bruises. He was unconscious, but his breathing was even. The gold mask was still wrapped around his face. Wolverine untied the stranger and then slung the man over his shoulder. 

He headed home.

* * *

When Scott came to, he was greeted with a throbbing headache. He kept his eyes shut, feeling the comforting weight of his visor wrapped around his face. At least the natives hadn’t been foolish enough to take that off. The next thing he realized was that he wasn’t bound. His hands and feet were definitely free; there was no constricting rope tied around his middle. Of course, that could simply mean that he was in a holding cell of some kind, but he wouldn’t know the answer to that until he opened his eyes. 

The first thing he saw didn’t entirely make sense. It wasn’t the metal concave roof of the Blackbird, but that was to be expected. It looked fairly smooth, however. Smooth…like stone. That was when he registered that he was lying down. Not on the ground, but on soft animal skins. He rolled onto his right side and groaned with the effort of trying to sit up. A gentle pressure on his left shoulder pushed him back down, and Scott didn’t have the energy to resist. He fell back onto the animal skins, looking at the person who had pushed him back down. Scott started when the stranger’s face came into view. 

It was the man from the stream. 

He was holding out a small, crude bowl towards Scott. This time, when Scott propped himself up on his elbows, the man didn’t try to stop him. Balancing his weight on his left arm, Scott reached for the bowl with his right hand. He looked into the bowl. The liquid inside was odorless. Water. Scott brought the bowl to his lips and drank deeply. After several gulps, the water was gone. He passed the empty bowl back to the man. 

“Thank you,” he said.

The man didn’t reply, but he looked pleased. For the first time, Scott took a good look at him. He was older than Scott, stockier and broader. His hair was dark and unruly. He also had a somewhat trimmed beard, which reflexively made Scott run a hand across the stubble growing on his jaw. Unfortunately, the emergency supplies of the Blackbird didn’t include a razor. Scott would have to do something about that when he returned to Westchester. He wondered how this stranger was keeping his beard in check or for how long he had been on the island. Scott’s gaze landed on the chain dangling from the other man’s neck. He hadn’t noticed that before. Perhaps the vegetation at the stream had covered the chain from his view. Now he could see that the stranger was wearing dog tags. 

_Military_. 

“I guess you’re not from around here either,” Scott said aloud. He wanted to reach out and inspect the metal identity tag, but refrained. _Maybe later_ , he thought. He didn’t want to spook the other man.

“Not very talkative, are you?” 

In answer, the other man stood up, but not before pushing Scott back down onto the bed of animal skins. He may not have given Scott an order, but Scott understood the intent behind the action and he agreed with it. His head still hurt – he might have a concussion – and he needed to rest. He lay back down and shut his eyes almost immediately. The other man’s footfalls were nearly silent, but Scott heard the faint retreating steps before he fell asleep. 

It was hunger that woke Scott later and the delicious smell of meat cooking. _Real food._

When he opened his eyes again, it was much darker. Several hours must have passed, although his sense of time was askew. Scott understood now what he’d been too disoriented to pick up before, namely, that he was in a cave. His head had cleared, which was a relief. He was able to sit up without difficulty. The smell of the cooking meat and the light source came from his right. When he looked in that direction, he saw the entrance to the cave several yards away. The glow of the fire cast some of its shadow on the wall in front of him. There was a spit set over the flames, in front of which was the back of his mysterious host. Scott stretched gingerly, before finally getting to his feet. 

The stranger’s head turned slightly at the sound, but he didn’t look at Scott.

_Sensitive hearing_ , Scott thought, making his way to where the stranger sat. As he neared, he saw a flank of meat roasting over the fire. The stranger looked up at him, but otherwise didn’t move. He didn’t even invite Scott to sit down. Scott sat down anyway, not very far from the other man, but a reasonable distance. He didn’t say anything, unwilling to break the peaceful mood. It had already occurred to him, based on the man’s savage appearance and his earlier actions, that he might not know how to talk. Or perhaps he’d been alone in the wild for so long that he’d _forgotten_ how to talk. Maybe he spoke a different language from Scott. There was no guarantee that those dog tags were from the U.S. military. Whatever the reason, Scott had decided to be as non-threatening as possible and would attempt to communicate with the man later. For now, he was content to watch and observe. He got the impression that his companion was doing the same thing, that he had, in fact, been watching and observing Scott for some time. It would explain how he’d discovered Scott’s capture so quickly, and had been able to track the hunting party. Perhaps this stranger had had run-ins with the natives before. It seemed possible. But that also implied that the stranger was a formidable fighter if he’d been able to disable the hunting party by himself and bring Scott safely back to his ‘home.’

Once again, Scott’s gaze drifted to the dog tags. _Military_ , he reminded himself. He didn’t believe for one moment that the stranger saving him had been a random event. Of course, he also didn’t have any proof for his hypothesis except for a ‘feeling’ of being watched since he crash landed and the lone sighting at the stream. But Scott’s instinct had served him well on missions and battle scenarios before. The team liked to tease him about his contingency plans (the contingency to the contingency as Bobby called it), and his minute attention to detail, but that didn’t mean Scott didn’t know when to go with his gut. Yes, his decisions were carefully calculated, but he also had to adapt to the changing circumstances in the field. Sometimes that meant going with a feeling, and that’s what Scott was experiencing right now. Surviving in the Savage Land was the very definition of contingency, and Scott had a ‘feeling’ about his companion. So far, the other man had yet to prove him wrong.

They sat in silence as the meat cooked. Occasionally, the man would reach out and turn the flank so that it would cook evenly. Scott used the time to observe his surroundings. It was difficult to tell how high the cave was in the darkness. The moon should’ve been out, but it was covered by clouds. Save for the fire in front of them, they were swallowed up by the blackness of the Savage Land. The night wasn’t silent though. Insects chirped. The leaves of the trees rustled. There were low moans from much larger beasts in the distance. 

Scott started when the other man sat beside him. He was holding out a plate of cooked meat, made from the same earthenware as the cup he’d given Scott before. He gestured at the meat, motioning that Scott should eat. If Scott hadn’t been certain about the man’s inability to speak, this all but confirmed it. They’d have to rely on hand gestures and body language. 

Scott didn’t need to be told twice. He was hungry. He picked up a piece of meat and noted how cleanly it had been sliced. The man must have a knife with him. That would be useful. The meat looked pale in the firelight. White meat. 

“It’s good,” Scott said, after he took the first bite. “Tastes like chicken,” he added, knowing the other man probably wouldn’t understand.

His companion was watching him intently. It was slightly unnerving, but Scott calmly continued to eat. It wasn’t until he picked up the second slice of not-chicken that the other man seemed satisfied and began to eat as well. They shared the same plate, the man scooting nearer so that he was almost pressed up against Scott’s side. That was a little too close for comfort, but Scott didn’t move. He didn’t want to inadvertently offend his host. It was also chillier outdoors than he’d anticipated, and the other man’s body heat was welcome. They were sitting on an outcropping outside the cave. Scott realized that it was the first time he’d spent the night _outdoors_. For the entire week, he’d been in the shelter of the Blackbird in the evenings. _It was also the location_ , Scott thought. It would be cooler higher up than it would be on the ground.

They finished their plate in silence. By the end, the other man was leaning slightly into Scott, any pretense of personal space long evaporated. He sounded content, if Scott was to go by the deep rumbling that was coming from him, which reminded Scott oddly of a purring cat. At least, he seemed content enough that Scott took the opportunity to reach out – very slowly, so that the other man could stop him – and grasp the dangling chain at his neck. The man didn’t react except to watch Scott intently, which Scott was getting used to. Scott rubbed the dog tag with his thumb, cleaning some of the grime off of it. It was different from other dog tags that he’d seen. There was a serial number and a name, but no indication of affiliation. 

“Wolverine,” he read aloud. That wasn’t even the man’s real name, just a call sign. “Wolverine,” he said again, looking at his companion. The other man gave no indication that he understood. 

Scott decided to try something else. He released the dog tag, the metal identity card swinging back against the man’s chest. Scott tapped his chest and said, “Scott.” Then he pointed at the other man and said, “Wolverine.” He repeated the action twice, and then waited to see what his companion would do. 

The man reached out and touched Scott’s chest, but didn’t say anything. So, Scott said it for him. 

“Scott.” 

Then the man touched his own chest. 

“Wolverine.” 

The other man nodded, looking pleased again. 

“You understand,” Scott murmured. “I know you do.”

Then the other man gestured at the spit. 

Scott shook his head. “Full,” he said. 

His companion seemed to understand this as well since he stood up, pulling Scott to his feet in the process. Scott obliged, the other man’s grip light on his wrist. The fire on the spit was low and without tending, would eventually die out. Scott supposed there was no way to preserve what was left of the flank – it was too much food for just two people – and so he didn’t worry about it. With the cool temperature, it would last through the night, if it wasn’t attacked by bugs and other creepy crawlies.

Wolverine lead them back inside the cave. He knew his way around the darkness, and Scott wondered how good his eyesight was. If his companion had keen hearing, his other senses might be as sharp. It was a short walk back to the bed of furs and as Scott settled back into the makeshift bed, he found himself asking, “What about you?” 

Again, the question went verbally unanswered, but that didn’t mean Scott didn’t get _an_ answer. The bed of furs was wide and after Scott was comfortable, his companion curled up behind him, a secure arm wrapped around Scott’s waist. Scott was surprised by the affection – and possessiveness – of the action. Wolverine was broader and stockier than him, but also a good foot or two shorter, which made Scott feel like a giant teddy bear. He wasn’t used to being the ‘little spoon.’ He thought about moving, but wasn’t sure he’d have much success. (He could tell that Wolverine was physically stronger than him.) Most of all, he realized that he felt comfortable, and that he felt safe, which was remarkable. Safety and companionship were two things he hadn’t experienced since he’d landed on the Forbidden Island.


	2. Getting to Know You

Scott woke to a heavy weight on his legs, and heat, followed by cool air on his cock. 

_What?_

Another lick, another long, slow suck. 

_This was a pleasant dream_ , he thought. 

Heat again. More cool air. 

_Nice_. 

More pressure now. More heat. Wetness. A tongue running along the underside of his length.

Scott shifted his hips, angling upwards. There was an immediate reaction as hands clamped down and held him still. It was this reaction that made Scott open his eyes. Through the ruby quartz of his visor, the ceiling of the cave greeted him. He may have fallen asleep on his side but during the night he’d rolled onto his back. His companion, who’d curled up behind him was . . . 

Scott looked down and what he saw took several moments to comprehend. The weight on his legs was real. Wolverine was lying comfortably on top of him, leisurely licking and sucking his dick like it was some kind of treat. He looked content. He stopped his actions when he saw that Scott was awake, looking right at Scott as though trying to gauge his reaction.

Scott didn’t know what to think, much less how to react. Was this assault? He hadn’t asked for this and he barely knew the other man. But as Wolverine’s mouth made another pass, Scott realized that he didn’t really mind either. It was a surprising way to wake up, sure, but there were a lot of worse things to wake up to than a ‘Good morning’ blowjob from a stranger. Further, some part of his lizard brain acknowledged that he did find Wolverine attractive in a savage way, even though Scott would _never_ have acted on it. Attraction, as it turned out, was a two-way street, and unlike him, Wolverine had no compunction about doing something on his end. It was freeing, in a way, to live outside of society’s constraints and expectations. _Lonely too_ , Scott thought, wondering, not for the first time, how Wolverine had become this way, and for how long he’d been alone.

Of course, there was also the issue of ‘Would a blowjob lead to something else?’ Would that be enough to satisfy Wolverine? Scott doubted that. Would the other man expect something in return? What then? How far would Scott be willing to go? Those were questions he probably should’ve given more thought to, but Wolverine’s mouth felt so good. It made thinking difficult. 

Scott lifted his head to look at Wolverine and said, “Do you maybe want to finish up down there?”

Wolverine didn’t seem to be in any hurry, content to possibly lick and suck Scott to death. He stopped again when Scott spoke to him, this time cocking his head to the right. When Scott tried to move, Wolverine adjusted as well, bearing more weight on Scott and immobilizing him. _Dominant and possessive_ , Scott thought, remembering the other man’s behavior from the night before. He knew that he could get away if he really wanted to, but he also didn’t really want to put up a fight. He was more interested in Wolverine _finishing_ what the other man had started.

Instead of trying to move his legs again, Scott gestured at his groin. He was developing a greater appreciation for body language and hand gestures when Wolverine responded, bending his head and taking Scott in his mouth again. This time the other man wasn’t fooling around. No more teasing licks and gentle suction. Wolverine’s mouth was hungry and demanding, and he was sweeping Scott up in his enthusiasm. It made Scott feel wanted. Desired. It’d been some time since he’d felt desired by anyone. 

The other man was taking him deeper, almost down to the root. When Scott subtly angled his hips upwards again, no hands clamped down to stop him. _Better_. And that was how he and Wolverine developed a rhythm, a natural give and take. When Scott felt that he was near, he reached down and grasped a fistful of the other man’s hair. He didn’t want to stop Wolverine; the action was meant to be a warning that he was close. Intuitively, Wolverine seemed to understand this since he bore down even more, sucking and sucking until Scott exploded from the force of it, Wolverine’s mouth still clamped onto him. The other man didn’t choke or gag at the burst of fluid. Instead, he continued to suck and lick, drinking Scott down with only a sliver of cum escaping down his chin, which he lapped up with his tongue.

Scott was still boneless, enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm when he found himself being pulled to his feet. “What?” he said, confused. He didn’t have the energy or inclination to move, but Wolverine was a persistent man. Before he knew it, he was on his feet. 

“What?” he said again, looking at his companion somewhat exasperatedly. Of all the ways he thought a blowjob could end, being dragged out of bed wasn’t one of them. 

The look Wolverine gave him in return was a little smug and full of expectation. He was holding Scott’s wrist loosely, and for the first time, Scott was aware that they were both naked. His gaze drifted downward before he could stop himself. Although Wolverine couldn’t see his eyes behind the visor, the other man must’ve known what Scott was doing because the grin he gave Scott was even smugger. And with good reason. Wolverine was packing, not that Scott was shoddy in that department.

Wolverine gave Scott’s wrist a little tug, nodding towards the entrance of the cave. He wanted to go outside, and he wanted Scott to come with him. Scott glanced down at their nakedness again, wondering if modesty dictated that they – at least, _he_ – should do something about that. Wolverine didn’t give him time to make up his mind, however, since he was already pulling Scott with him to the entrance of the cave. 

_Ah, what the hell?_ Scott thought. _When in the Savage Land . . ._

* * *

Outside, the almost pitch black of the previous night had been replaced by clear morning light. Scott could see how high up they were, the cave embedded into the face of a cliff with an outcropping where they had eaten the evening meal. A narrow trail lead from both sides of the cave’s entrance. He had no idea of knowing from which direction Wolverine had carried him up here, but now Wolverine was following the trail that turned to the left. He released Scott’s wrist once they were on the path, so that Scott could properly balance himself, one hand on the rock face for support. The trail didn’t go downwards as Scott had expected, but followed a straight path. In fact, when he saw the smoothness of the path and the even handholds in the rock, he realized that this trail was manmade. It wasn’t long before he heard rushing water. This intrigued him even more. Eventually, they emerged onto another outcropping, and from what Scott could see, a much shallower cave compared to the one that Wolverine had made his home. A curtain of water fell over this cave’s entrance, near enough that Scott could reach out and touch the water with his hand. He laughed, delighted. This was so much better than his little stream. 

Wolverine was grinning at his reaction. Scott was about to say something to him when the other man suddenly rushed out and jumped over the cave’s edge. 

_Oh, hell._

Scott peered over the edge. He couldn’t see how far the waterfall went or what was below. He could estimate, based on the height of the previous cave and the relatively straight path that he’d followed, how high up he was, but that was no guarantee of accuracy. He sighed. This was a literal leap of faith. He took a few steps back into the cave to give himself more room, and then he sprinted, leaping over the ledge as Wolverine had done.

The fall was exhilarating. For a brief moment, he wished that he were Warren with the ability to spread his wings and fly. Then he hit the water. It wasn’t a rough landing as he’d feared; there were no rocks rushing up to crush his skull at the bottom of the waterfall. The water was deep and Scott swam upwards until he broke the surface. Wolverine was already swimming towards him when he did, a nice even breaststroke that made Scott a little envious. Scott met the other man halfway. They treaded water, facing each other and Scott took the opportunity to examine their surroundings. The pool was picturesque, eventually tapering out into a clear, smooth-flowing river. It was the kind of setting that would appear in a postcard: “Greetings from the Savage Land!” Scott grinned, ruefully. This had to be the least-threatening environment he’d been in so far, and the Forbidden Island seemed to be filled with nothing _but_ threatening environments.

Wolverine broke his train of thought by invading Scott’s personal space. He swam right up to Scott so that they were chest-to-chest. When Scott felt a pair of legs tangle in his and a set of arms snake around his waist, he didn’t resist. Chest-to-chest like this lessened the height difference between them. When the other man tipped his face up, it made Scott question his ability to read body language. Was this the universal action for ‘Give me a kiss’? Because that’s what Scott thought it meant, but, really . . . how could he be sure? 

Only one way to find out. 

Scott leaned forward, slotting his lips against the other man’s. Wolverine’s reaction was instantaneous, opening his mouth and encouraging Scott. For his part, Scott hadn’t known what to expect, but Wolverine was obliterating his non-expectations. The other man was responsive and so very tactile. The silence in Scott’s head felt strange. He’d grown used to telepaths being his lovers. Without that mental connection, his mind focused on other things like Wolverine’s roaming hands and the growing hardness pressing against his thigh. As the kiss grew more heated and Wolverine more demanding, Scott knew that they’d have to move. They couldn’t keep this up, treading water in the middle of a pool. He broke their kiss, earning a growl from Wolverine, and began to swim to the bank. 

Wolverine followed. 

Before Scott could get out of the water, Wolverine cornered him, turning him around and pressing him into the shallow water and the muddy bank behind him. He leaned forward to kiss Scott again, shamelessly grinding his erection into Scott’s thigh.

Scott chuckled at the other man’s eagerness. “We’re going to do this here, huh?” he teased, as Wolverine licked a stripe up his neck. Whatever he was going to say was broken by the small gasp that escaped him when Wolverine grasped his cock. There was no shyness in Wolverine’s actions, only certainty and determination. And what he was determined to do was to make Scott hard again. With those firm, even strokes of his and the water acting as lube, it didn’t take long at all.

Scott groaned as he reached between their bodies. Wolverine had already woken him up with a ‘Good morning’ blowjob and hadn’t asked for anything in return. It was time Scott reciprocated. He took Wolverine’s cock in his hand, earning a growl for his efforts, but Wolverine pushed eagerly into his grasp anyway. Wolverine’s cock was thick. He was broader than Scott but not quite as long. Still, it was a hefty organ and Scott would need proper prepping before he tried to take that inside him. (Yes, he was already thinking that far ahead.) Intercourse would be for later, though, since it was clear that Wolverine wanted to get off quickly. He was thrusting into Scott’s hand a little erratically, his breathing heavy. Scott pumped him quickly, his grip bordering on too tight. Then Wolverine jerked, his body seizing for a second before Scott felt a hot liquid coat his hand. He kept pumping Wolverine through the other man’s orgasm, his grip looser now. Wolverine was leaning against him, his own grip on Scott’s cock momentarily forgotten. 

When the other man was finished, Scott put his hand on top of Wolverine’s. He began to stroke himself, guiding Wolverine’s hand in the process. The other man looked up at him with that same intense gaze that Scott was growing used to. He liked it. He enjoyed having Wolverine’s attention focused on him. Without really thinking about it, he leaned forward and kissed the other man. Like before, Wolverine latched onto the kiss easily. _He likes kissing_ , Scott realized. That seemed like useful information that Scott filed away for later. He kept the kiss going as Wolverine continued to work him with his hand. When Scott finally came, his cry was swallowed by Wolverine’s hot mouth.

* * *

They bathed properly after the mutual handjobs, with Wolverine scrubbing Scott’s back in a way that told Scott something was happening between them. Okay, _a lot_ had already happened between them, but some part of Scott knew that whatever was happening wasn’t just about sex. He could sense it. Wolverine’s affection was too great. The other man’s assumed familiarity should’ve felt stifling, but instead it was comfortable and put Scott at ease. Scott wasn’t trusting by nature, but he wanted to believe in the good in people. Yet, he found that he’d trusted Wolverine immediately, from the moment he’d woken up in the other man’s care in his cave.

There were no towels to dry themselves with when they got out of the water, but it didn’t matter. The weather was warm, but not yet humid, and there was a slight breeze by the pool. They’d rely on air-drying, without having to worry about catching a cold from open pores. Wolverine lead the way and Scott followed. There was a track through the bush, which told Scott that this was Wolverine’s regular trail. On his right was the tall cliff face that they had scaled to reach the waterfall. The height was high enough that from where he was Scott couldn’t even detect the narrow pass that he and Wolverine had taken earlier. Along the way, Wolverine pulled down the biggest cantaloupe that Scott had ever seen and tossed it back to him. 

“Breakfast, huh?” Scott said, catching the giant melon. Everything was truly giant-sized in the Savage Land. 

Wolverine grinned at him, snagging a second cantaloupe and carrying it under his left arm. Inside, Scott was silently laughing. How much melon did Wolverine think he could eat?

The walk back to the cave was much longer and the sounds of the waterfall disappeared behind them, swallowed by the thick vegetation. It was when they turned right and began ascending that Scott realized that they’d walked around the cave. Sure enough, they approached Wolverine’s cave from the opposite direction that they’d left it. Scott made a mental note of that. Only one path out of the cave was a true exit, the other lead to the waterfall. 

Back inside the cave, Wolverine handed Scott a strip of animal skin that was clearly meant to be a loincloth. 

“Sharing clothes already?” Scott remarked. “You move quickly.”

Scott’s humor washed over the other man, but Scott accepted the loincloth nonetheless. It didn’t provide much in the way of protection, but it was still better than swinging in the breeze. Wolverine had pulled out the loincloth from a simple chest; no hinges, just a lid that he had lifted. He moved aside to let Scott rummage around. There were other clothes inside the chest: more loincloths, robes, a pair of sandals, even a headdress. The clothes didn’t look like they belonged to Wolverine, which meant that the cave they were in must have had a previous owner. This hypothesis was confirmed when Scott caught sight of the cave paintings that lined one wall. He hadn’t noticed them last night in the darkness, but in the morning light he could clearly see the paintings that were nearest to the entrance. By the look of it, the paintings went down the length of the cave, but Scott would need a proper light source before he explored any deeper. Technically, he didn’t know how deep the cave was or if it led anywhere. He’d save the exploring for later. The thought startled him. Somewhere along the line, his unconscious had decided that he was going to stay with Wolverine. His rational mind didn’t seem to have any objections to the idea either. But first, he needed to get back to the Blackbird.

When they were both ‘dressed,’ Scott joined Wolverine on the outcropping at the entrance to the cave. Scott understood that this was where Wolverine took his meals. In the daylight, that much was obvious. Not only was there a spit (where the flank of meat from the previous night was miraculously not swarming with flies or bugs), but also the area where they had been sitting last night was arranged more like a semi-circular campfire. Again, it suggested that other people had occupied or used the cave prior to Wolverine. Scott vaguely wondered what had happened to those people. 

Wolverine sat down on the same flat stone seat that he’d originally sat in last night, and this time Scott joined him. The stone slab was wide enough for them to share, but Scott didn’t sit quite as close as Wolverine had before, leaving some space between them. Wolverine was holding his giant cantaloupe in his lap (Scott had left his inside the cave). While Scott was wondering how Wolverine planned to open it (crush it against a sharp stone perhaps?), Wolverine did something startling. Scott heard a sound – a faint ‘snikt’ – before he saw the action: a single blade, three times the length of a kitchen carving knife, shot out from Wolverine’s right knuckle.

“Whoa,” Scott said, instinctively leaning away. Well, that certainly answered Scott’s question about a knife. He straightened up when Wolverine shot him an inquiring look. “That’s a big blade,” he pointed out, gesturing at the sleek blade. The more Scott looked at it, the more it reminded him of a katana. That blade looked lethal. “Do you mind?” he asked, slowly reaching for Wolverine’s hand. 

The other man didn’t object, allowing Scott to grasp his wrist and pull the bladed hand towards him. Scott didn’t run his fingers across the blade, but he examined it at its root. The blade came directly out of the back of Wolverine’s hand in between the second and third knuckle. Wolverine didn’t seem to be in any pain, but Scott could see the blood seeping from where the blade pierced Wolverine’s flesh. Gently, he rubbed his thumb across the other knuckles, wondering. Wolverine answered his silent question by pulling his hand out of Scott’s grasp. Then, with the blade pointed away from both of them, Scott heard the ‘snikt’ again, louder this time as two more blades broke through flesh to join their companion. Taken as a whole, Wolverine had three giant metal claws coming out of his right hand. 

“You’re a mutant,” Scott said in awe. _What were the chances?_ he wondered. _To be saved in the Savage Land by another one of his species?_ Apparently, those chances were fairly good.

The claws impressed Scott. Surely, Wolverine’s other hand had the same set of claws. How did they work? What were they made of? Were they natural? Were they manmade? If they were manmade, had they been grafted onto him somehow? Was the other man’s whole skeleton made of the same metal? He was so preoccupied by these questions that he almost missed Wolverine reaching over with his left hand. Scott jerked back again when he realized that Wolverine meant to touch his visor. 

“No!” he barked, his voice louder and sharper than he’d intended. 

Wolverine’s eyes narrowed at the change in tone and Scott’s reaction. 

“Sorry,” Scott apologized, softening his voice and raising his hands in a placating manner. He tapped his visor with a finger. “Dangerous,” he explained. “It must never come off. You understand? Dangerous.” 

This was an important point. Scott didn’t want to hurt his new friend, but how could he get this idea across?

Wolverine pointed at the landscape that was their view. Scott could see across the distance, but even at this height, there were trees that jutted into the landscape. Wolverine seemed to be pointing at one of those trees. He looked back at Scott, gently tapping the edge of Scott’s visor. Then he pointed at the tree again. Scott understood. He focused on the tree, adjusted the setting of his optic beam, and then fired. His optic beam shot out, the force of it cleanly slicing the tree’s trunk, so that the top portion of the tree creaked and groaned as it fell to the side. 

Wolverine laughed. He was clearly delighted. His upbeat attitude rubbed off on Scott, who gave the other man a wry grin. 

“You were expecting that,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “You _have_ been watching me.” Wolverine’s reaction further confirmed what Scott had already suspected. “Stalker,” he added, but he was smiling.

Wolverine’s good humor wasn’t dampened, and he returned his attention to the cantaloupe now that show-and-tell (or show-and-show) was over. Two of the blades on his right hand disappeared into their invisible sheaths. Scott observed how the skin sealed over the blades and the wounds healed almost instantaneously. So, Wolverine had more than one mutant ability. It certainly explained how he’d survived in the Savage Land. He had killer claws and a healing factor. By contrast, Scott was a strategist, trained in combat and could level a mountaintop with his gaze. Together, there was probably nothing the Savage Land could throw at them that they wouldn’t be able to handle. They would make a good team. 

Wolverine cut through the cantaloupe as though it were butter. 

Scott nodded to himself. The blades were lethal. 

Wolverine halved the melon, and then quartered it. The quarters he cut in half one more time, laying the thick slices with the skin still intact on the stone slab in between them. Then, to Scott’s amazement, Wolverine picked up each slice and began to clean it, delicately scraping off the seeds and innards of the fruit.

“You’re very dexterous with those blades,” Scott commented, as Wolverine worked. He vaguely entertained the idea of allowing Wolverine to use his blades as a straight razor so that he could shave, but decided against it. Having that blade against his throat required a remarkable level of trust, and they weren’t there . . . yet. 

With the cleaning and scraping done, Wolverine divided the slices of cantaloupe between them. Scott couldn’t help but laugh again. It was a ridiculous amount of fruit. The first bite of the melon, however, made him moan. Not only was it the biggest cantaloupe that Scott had seen in his life, it was also the sweetest. When it wasn’t trying to kill you, the Savage Land had its advantages. 

They ate in companionable silence, Scott only managing to finish two slices or one-quarter of the melon. Wolverine finished his half and then glared at Scott so accusingly that Scott picked up one more slice and began to eat. He couldn’t do more than that, however, and Wolverine grudgingly finished the rest of the fruit.

Afterwards, Scott decided to try more hand gestures to communicate with the other man. He needed to get back to the Blackbird and Wolverine was his only guide. 

“I need to get back to the Blackbird,” he told the other man. Scott mimed the action of the jet crashing, his right hand in the form of a flying object that crashed into the embankment of his left hand. 

“Blackbird,” he repeated, holding the gesture. “Can you take me there?” 

He put his hands down and waited to see what Wolverine would do. Like the previous night, Wolverine mimed the gesture precisely, forming the same flying object with his right hand and crashing it into his left. 

“Blackbird,” Scott repeated, pointing at Wolverine’s right hand. “Do you know where it is?” 

Wolverine nodded so solemnly that it made Scott smile. “Let’s go then,” he said, standing up. 

Wolverine stood up as well, and once again, Scott found himself following the other man.


	3. Mayday

Scott didn’t have a watch with him, so instead of measuring time he measured the distance to the Blackbird by steps. Wolverine was certain of where he was going, which once again confirmed that he’d been spying on Scott regularly. Once they were off the rocky cliff and had entered the thick vegetation, Scott began to have a fairly good idea of where they were. He also had a great sense of direction. He quickly recognized the path that the Blackbird had made when she’d originally sliced through the vegetation during the crash. They were in the jungle that Scott had spotted from the sky, which meant that at the edge of this jungle would be the clearing that led to the Blackbird’s crash site. 

Now Scott knew how fortunate it had been that he’d crashed so near Wolverine’s home. There was a decent chance the other man might have witnessed the crash when it happened. Certainly, Wolverine had been near enough to investigate the crash site and turn into Scott’s personal guardian angel. Personal guardian wolf? Wait a minute. Weren’t wolverines from the weasel family? Small, carnivorous, usually solitary mammals that were very strong, especially relative to their size? When Scott thought of that description and looked at the man whose trail he was following, the accuracy of it made him smile. As if sensing his amusement, Wolverine glanced back but didn’t stop. Scott jogged a few steps to catch up to the other man and then fell into step beside him. There was enough room on the path for them to walk side by side. Wolverine gave him a sideways glance, but Scott looked straight ahead. They were nearing the edge of the jungle. In a few moments, the clearing would come into view.

Scott was surprised by the rush of affection that he felt at seeing ‘his’ field. From the edge of the jungle, the expanse stretched out before them. Herbivores were crossing the clearing. The Blackbird was to their left, protected by the embankment. Scott had further fortified the area, building a perimeter of stakes around the exposed flank of the jet. He set out towards the Blackbird, taking the lead this time, with Wolverine content to walk beside him. When they reached the jet, Scott made a cursory examination of its exterior. The signs of his struggle with the natives were still there, but the jet hadn’t been vandalized by wayward animals in his absence. The perimeter had remained secure.

He entered through the Blackbird’s back hatchway. Although Scott had managed to open the hatchway after the crash, its mechanism had been too badly damaged to allow the hatchway to close again. It was a permanent opening now, but it ensured that the inside of the Blackbird remained well ventilated. It never got too hot or stuffy, even during the day. One of the inner layers of the fuselage also refracted heat, which helped in keeping the Blackbird cool during the day, despite the lack of shade. 

Wolverine stopped at the hatchway. Scott looked back at him. 

“Come in,” he said, waving Wolverine inside. 

The other man didn’t move. Scott walked back to him and grasped his hand, pulling Wolverine inside with him. 

“Come in,” he repeated. “You’re welcome here.”

Once inside, Scott released the other man’s hand. Wolverine was free to explore. Given how hesitant he had been to simply enter the Blackbird, Scott didn’t think the other man would go around destroying things. Scott, on the other hand, went straight to the communications panel. He’d been working on the radio when he’d been attacked and he wanted to see how much – if any – damage had been done. It’d taken him nearly five days to finish the job. 

“This looks all right,” he muttered, running his fingers over a gash to the right of the panel, where one of the native’s spears had left its mark. The main panel hadn’t been scratched.

Unlike the rest of the Blackbird, the communications panel had a back-up battery that was isolated from the rest of the jet’s systems. The redundancy meant that the radio would have its own power supply, even if everything else went to hell. Now, Scott switched on the radio. Behind him, Wolverine startled at the sound of the static, approaching Scott cautiously. 

Scott gestured that everything was all right, taking a seat in front of the console. “Mayday, mayday,” he said into the radio’s microphone. “Mayday, mayday. This is Scott Summers of the X-Men broadcasting from the Savage Land. Is anybody receiving this?”

Scott released the ‘talk’ button, waiting for a reply. Wolverine stood beside him. When none came, he repeated his message, and he waited. Then he repeated it again. And again. And again. Finally, he sat back. 

“I’m sure the radio is working,” he said aloud. “There could be poor reception in this field,” he continued, running through the possibilities. “The radio’s coming with us,” he told Wolverine. “Your cave might be a better location to test it.” 

Naturally, Wolverine didn’t reply but he was looking at Scott with his usual intensity. Scott stood up and began searching for the best method to remove the radio from its console. He measured its size, since the communications panel was much bigger than the radio itself. The communications package was a complicated system, but Scott only needed the radio. Satisfied, he lowered the setting on his visor, just enough so that his force beam would cut through the console without damaging the circuitry beneath. Setting the visor to a fine beam, Scott began to cut the radio out of its console. 

Wolverine watched. He seemed impressed by the fine work. If he’d been spying on Scott, then perhaps all he’d seen of Scott’s power was brute force. This was the first time he would’ve seen the finer side to Scott’s optic beam. Cutting through the console took less than two minutes. Then Scott grasped the radio with both hands and pulled. It moved less than an inch. He tried again. It moved a whole inch, but it wasn’t sliding out as Scott had hoped. Wolverine tapped him on the arm, and Scott understood that the other man was offering his help. He stepped aside, grasping Wolverine’s arm as he did so. 

“Slowly,” he said. “Gently.”

With his free hand, Scott mimed the motion of the radio being pulled out of the console slowly. Wolverine nodded. Scott knew that he understood. Then it was Scott’s turn to watch as Wolverine grabbed hold of the radio. He tugged. The radio moved another inch. Annoyance flashed across the other man’s features. Before Scott could say or do anything, the claws in Wolverine’s right hand shot out. Wolverine drove them into the console beside the radio. As Scott’s surprise wore off, he realized what Wolverine meant to do. He would use his right arm as leverage as he pulled the radio out with his left. Scott stepped forward again, grasping the left side of the machine; Wolverine held onto the right. Together, they pulled the radio out smoothly. 

“Well done!” Scott said, clapping the other man on the back when he was securely holding the radio under his left arm. “Let me go find something to put this in.”

That something turned out to be a backpack with a gold X insignia. (Ororo had told him that the insignia was in gold.) Scott found two backpacks. In the first, he stored the radio, a few small tools, a flashlight and spare batteries. The second backpack, he filled with emergency supplies including some modified uniforms, a hand towel, the medical kit, MREs (he wondered how Wolverine would react to those), a flask filled with drinking water (it could be refilled), a bar of soap, and, after a moment’s hesitation, a small container of engine oil. Given what had happened between them at the cave and at the waterfall, it would be naïve to think that things wouldn’t go further in the future, probably in the near future. Scott wanted to be prepared. Too bad condoms weren’t part of the emergency supplies. He contemplated adding them to future mission kits, smiling at the thought of Bobby’s potential reaction. 

While Scott packed, Wolverine wandered around the jet’s interior. As Scott suspected, the other man didn’t touch anything. He seemed content to look around, but what he was really doing was waiting for Scott. 

When Scott was ready, he tapped Wolverine on the arm again, motioning that they should head out. He’d slung one of the backpacks (the one with the radio inside) over his right shoulder; he was holding the other backpack with his left hand. Before he could stop him, Wolverine had reached for the second backpack, mirroring Scott’s actions and slinging it over his right shoulder as well. Scott grinned, securing his backpack by putting his left arm through the left strap, so that the backpack rested properly against his back. Once again, Logan mirrored the action. 

“Let’s go,” Scott told him, exiting through the hatchway, Wolverine on his heels. He crossed the clearing again, now familiar with the way home.

* * *

Wolverine let Scott lead on the way back. Scott felt as though it were some kind of test to make sure that he had been paying attention, to make sure that he could find his way back to the cave. Luckily, Scott had always had an excellent sense of direction, just like he’d always been good at math. It was just one of those things. 

Back at the cave, Scott took the second backpack from Wolverine and left it by the bed of furs. He settled on the outcropping at the cave’s entrance and unpacked the radio. Wolverine watched him for a moment before he stood up. He caught Scott’s attention by baring the claws of his right hand, the faint ‘snikt’ the metal made now becoming more familiar to Scott. Wolverine pointed in the general direction of the jungle, which Scott translated to mean that the other man was going back out, probably to hunt. He nodded in response. 

“I’ll be here,” he said, tapping the ground beside him. “Wait here,” he repeated. 

It was Wolverine’s turn to nod before he set off down the cliff. Scott watched him for a moment before turning his attention back to the task at hand. At some point, Wolverine had disposed of last night’s meal without him realizing it. It meant that they would have fresh meat for tonight.

Wolverine was gone for the rest of the afternoon, but Scott had plenty with which to occupy himself. The first thing he did was try the radio again. Like before, silence greeted him. There was no response to his distress call. Perhaps there was something blocking the signal. Scott glanced at the cave walls behind him. The density of the rocky cliff might interfere with the radio. He’d only been thinking of height when he’d decided to bring the radio back to Wolverine’s cave. What he really needed was height _and_ open space. He’d have to ask Wolverine to take him somewhere else in the morning. How he was going to get that description across was going to be a challenge, but Wolverine continued to surprise him. They’d managed fairly well so far.

After deciding that the radio was a bust, Scott headed back inside. He remembered the cave paintings that he wanted to examine, now that he had a flashlight in order to do so. The paintings lined the left wall of the cave, acting almost as a backdrop to where Wolverine had made his (their?) bed. Scott scanned them quickly, trying to discern the narrative of their pictography. From what he could tell, the paintings moved from left to right, starting near the cave mouth and then traveling down the wall. He ate an MRE (roast beef the label said, and not a bad approximation albeit a tad dry) while he tried to decipher them. They appeared to tell the story of a giant object falling out of the sky and landing on the Forbidden Island. From this object (a meteorite, perhaps?) came a monster that terrorized the people. But then someone had come – an outsider of some sort – who had fought the monster and eventually subdued it. The monster was buried and a structure (a temple? a palace?) was built over its remains. Its vanquisher stayed at the temple and was worshipped as a god and savior.

By the time Scott had made his way to the end of the story, he was deep inside the cave, shrouded in darkness with his flashlight casting its beam on the last painting on the wall. He could still see the entrance, but it was a dim light in the distance, indicating that the afternoon light had fallen. Wolverine would probably be back soon. Scott studied the last painting one more time. He found the history of the island interesting, but he also sensed that there was more to it, more that he didn’t understand. If only he could talk to the natives about it. If only the native were _friendlier_ . . . 

The thought amused him so much that he was startled when he felt a weight rest on his hip. Scott’s right hand flew to the trigger of his visor, but he somehow managed to rein in the impulse to strike out at the intruder with his left elbow. Some part of him knew that it wasn’t an intruder; it was just Wolverine. Sneaky, stealthy Wolverine with his heightened senses, his healing factor, and those metal claws. Scott turned around instead, glaring at the other man. The gesture was useless since Wolverine couldn’t see his eyes behind the visor, but perhaps the other man noticed the hard line of his jaw or the thin line of displeasure on his lips. 

Or maybe not.

Wolverine’s attention was focused on the beam of light in Scott’s hand. He reached for it, and Scott passed the flashlight over. Wolverine nearly blinded himself by looking straight into the bulb. Then he began to shake the flashlight up and down. Scott couldn’t tell if the other man was aggravated or amused by it. 

“Here,” Scott said, grasping Wolverine’s wrist and holding it steady. His thumb found the on and off switch on the flashlight, and he flicked it off. He waited two seconds before flipping it on again. He showed Wolverine where the switch was. It probably wasn’t his best idea since Wolverine began switching the flashlight on and off as if it were a toy. 

Scott shook his head. “You’re just a giant kid,” he told the other man, affection bleeding into his voice as the light continued to flash on and off in the darkness. “Come on,” he said, grasping Wolverine’s free hand. “Let’s go see what you brought for dinner, otherwise we’ll be eating MREs.” 

Wolverine didn’t resist, walking beside Scott to the entrance of the cave, the flashlight an unsteady beam that didn’t quite light their path, but danced off the walls around them. It didn’t matter. Scott knew that the cave floor was smooth and unfettered until they reached Wolverine’s ‘living quarters’ and by then, they would be near enough to the cave’s entrance.

* * *

Unlike the previous evening’s meal of not-chicken, Wolverine had gone fishing this time. Three large fish were cooking over the spit on the outcropping, each fish about the size of Scott’s forearm. He could tell that the fish had already been gutted and cleaned. Scott was quietly impressed. He wasn’t going to starve in Wolverine’s company. 

“This would be the part where we would tell each other about our day,” Scott said amiably, sitting down at what had become his customary spot. He wasn’t surprised when Wolverine sat down beside him, giving him a sidelong glance. “How about I go first?” Scott suggested. 

Wolverine looked at him patiently. 

“Well, the radio didn’t work,” Scott went on. “I’ll try again tomorrow. We’ll have to look for a spot that’s high up but also open space. Maybe the top of this cliff?” he suggested. 

Wolverine didn’t respond.

“I spent the rest of the afternoon looking at your cave paintings. They tell an interesting story. They also tell me that you weren’t the first one to live in this cave, which makes me wonder what happened to the previous occupant?” 

Still no response. 

“So, that was my day,” Scott concluded. “And you,” he said, gesturing at the spit. “I see you went fishing.” 

Wolverine lunged at him so suddenly that Scott had no time to react. He fell backwards with Wolverine landing on top of him. The other man kept his weight off of Scott, but still pinned him to the ground. When Wolverine leaned forward to kiss him, Scott met the kiss halfway. _This was nice_ , Scott thought. _Kissing Wolverine was nice_. So was the nuzzling at the side of his neck, and the feel of ropey muscle under his hands. When it became clear that Wolverine was after more than making out, Scott gently pushed him aside. 

“Wait,” he said, pointing at the spit. “Eat first, sex later.”

Wolverine seemed to understand this as well because he sat up, tugging Scott up with him. Then he reached for the fish and, like the previous night, began to turn the fish over so that the meat would be evenly cooked. 

“Wolverine, Master Chef,” Scott remarked. 

This earned him an affectionate pat that made Scott chuckle. Sometimes Wolverine behaved like a giant kid; other times, he treated Scott as though Scott were a pet that needed looking after. Whichever way Scott was treated, he could tell that Wolverine’s affection and consideration towards him was real. There seemed to be no guile to the other man. His actions were plain, and if he could speak, Scott suspected that his words would be just as straightforward. 

Dinner passed quickly. The fish was tender, sweet and juicy. It was quite possibly the best-tasting fish that Scott had ever had in his life. And no, that wasn’t just his hunger talking. As they ate, Scott could feel the anticipation growing between them. They were both thinking of the same thing, making Scott grateful for the engine oil that he’d brought with him. When the meal was done, Wolverine practically hauled Scott to his feet and pulled him back into the cave, Scott chuckling most of the way. It was too surreal, being manhandled in this way by a savage man in the Savage Land, who was proving himself to be anything but savage.

Scott stopped laughing when he found himself on his back on Wolverine’s wide bed of furs. Then Wolverine was leaning over him, nudging Scott’s legs apart with a knee. Scott obliged, spreading his legs so that Wolverine could settle comfortably between them. Scott was still wearing his loin cloth, but somewhere between dinner and the bed Wolverine had lost his. He could smell Wolverine’s musk of arousal. It made him heady, just like the hardness digging into his thigh. He wasn’t surprised when Wolverine leaned in to kiss him. He was getting used to it, just like returning that kiss was becoming automatic. 

Wolverine had less patience now, gripping Scott’s cock a little roughly with a dry hand. 

“Oh, hey,” Scott said, breaking their kiss so that he could reach behind for the oil. He sat up, uncapping the container and pouring some oil into the palm of his hand before rubbing his hands together. Then he grabbed his own cock and slicked it up with the oil, coating Wolverine’s hands at the same time. The other man seemed fascinated by the oil. He gave Scott a look that Scott could only translate as approval. 

“Better, right?” Scott agreed.

There wasn’t going to be much foreplay tonight. Scott could tell, and he didn’t mind. It meant that he’d have to do the prep himself, or show Wolverine how it was done. Either option was fine since Wolverine was proving to be a quick learner. He poured more oil on his fingers and settled back onto the furs. What he was about to do felt incredibly lewd to him. He could see himself in his mind’s eye, lying down with his legs spread and about to fuck himself with his own fingers. 

Scott was a man of action and he carried his plan out. He took two fingers and slipped them inside, slowly stretching and probing. He hadn’t been fucked like this in a long time, but he remembered how this worked. He crooked his fingers upwards, brushing the nub that he knew was there and felt the corresponding curl of pleasure in his belly. He sighed, closing his eyes at the sensation. He continued to stretch himself, occasionally brushing across his prostate. Even with his eyes shut, Scott could feel Wolverine’s heated gaze on him. Watching. Learning. Scott inserted a third finger, knowing that three fingers were still no match for Wolverine’s girth. He was arching off the bed slightly now, his actions in time to the undulation of his fingers. Scott stilled when he felt a hand grip his wrist. He opened his eyes to see Wolverine looking hungrier than he could remember. Hungry for him.

“Yeah,” Scott breathed. “That’s enough prep.” 

He removed his fingers and was about to reach for the oil, when Wolverine’s actions stopped him. Two fingers had entered him again. Scott let out a breathy laugh, shuddering as Wolverine brushed across his prostate. 

“You want to try that, too?” Scott asked, rhetorically. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The pattern that he’d established with Wolverine was illustration followed by imitation. Why should this be any different? 

Scott was a little sorry that things weren’t different because he was ready to be fucked, so ready that he was practically craving it. But he didn’t want to disrupt their routine. Establishing patterns of behavior was important to them. With verbal communication only flowing one-way, non-verbal communication had to take precedence. And this was clearly an example of non-verbal communication.

So, Scott let Wolverine finger-fuck him, moaning when Wolverine also inserted a third finger. He needed a distraction though, and he motioned for Wolverine to come closer. The other man obliged, bracing himself on one arm as he leaned over Scott. Scott pulled him down into another kiss, Wolverine’s fingers still moving. This seemed to go on for a while, the pressure not enough to make Scott come but to keep the pleasure in his body warm and sustained. 

It was maddening. 

“That’s enough,” Scott muttered, pushing Wolverine away slightly so that he could reach for the oil. 

Wolverine waited expectantly as Scott uncapped the container again. He poured a few drops into his palm. This time, he reached for Wolverine’s cock, quickly slicking the other man up. Wolverine was rock hard. Scott was amazed that the other man had had the patience to go through all that prep. _Considerate_ , he thought. _Wolverine would be a considerate lover._

Scott also thought that he would be a good fuck. 

“Come on,” he encouraged. “I’m ready.”

Scott began to turn over. It would be easier on his front, but Wolverine stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. The other man shook his head, and then he was hiking Scott’s legs up to his shoulders. 

Scott laughed lightly. “You’re lucky I’m flexible,” he told the other man. 

There was no more laughing when Scott felt the head of Wolverine’s cock at his entrance. He exhaled at the first breach of his body, suddenly thankful for all the prep. The head of Wolverine’s cock stretched him wide, and he gripped one of Wolverine’s arms for support. _Considerate_ , he thought again. Wolverine was going slow. Really slow, and Scott appreciated it. 

When Wolverine was fully seated, he stilled completely, giving Scott time to get used to him. He began petting Scott – on his face, on his hair, on his side – little touches of affection and reassurance. Scott was moved by the tenderness, so wholly unexpected and yet so wholly Wolverine. He captured Wolverine’s roving hand and kissed his fingertips. 

“You can move now,” he said.

There was a glint in Wolverine’s eye that told Scott he understood. Wolverine leaned in for one of those kisses that he enjoyed so much and Scott reciprocated. He felt the first shallow thrust as Wolverine’s tongue curled around his own. Wolverine’s actions were methodical. Shallow thrusts at first, followed by longer, smoother, even strokes. Scott gripped Wolverine’s shoulder with one hand, the other hand reaching for his cock. He began stroking in time to Wolverine’s movements. This was good. Really good. He was biting his lower lip without realizing it, the sudden sharp tang of blood surprising him. He let out a cry at the feel of Wolverine’s teeth on the soft skin where shoulder met neck; then the wetness of a tongue laving the same spot. He’d been marked. Branded. The heat that had been building in him exploded at the thought. He came suddenly and without warning. 

Wolverine growled. He began fucking into Scott in earnest as though he wanted to catch up. Scott was over-sensitized now, but he ran his hands up and down Wolverine’s back, both to soothe and encourage him, finally resting them on the cheeks of Wolverine’s ass. He squeezed. Wolverine came with a groan, his head buried in the crook of Scott’s neck. They stayed that way for a while, their bodies locked together as their limbs relaxed and their breathing evened out.

Scott sighed. He realized with some surprise that he felt at peace, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt that way. Imagine. Finding peace in the Savage Land in the arms of a strange man. When had his life become a bad romance novel? Scott chuckled, amused. His change in demeanor caused Wolverine to shift. Scott thought the other man might get up or roll into bed beside him. Wolverine did neither of those things. Instead, he lifted himself off of Scott and then began to lick at the cooling mess on Scott’s belly. 

Scott groaned. That was . . . hot. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he told the other man.

When Wolverine was done, he sat up. He glanced down at his own belly, realizing that some of Scott’s cum was there. He scooped it up with his fingers and then licked it straight off. Scott was shaking his head in disbelief. Fingers clean, Wolverine settled on top of him again, his head resting on Scott’s chest, right over Scott’s heart. Scott wrapped his arms around the other man. He knew that he should clean himself up. If he didn’t, he’d regret it in the morning. He could already feel Wolverine’s cum leaking out of him. There was a hand towel in his backpack, only an arm’s length or two away. 

Scott couldn’t be bothered to move. He was too sated and content. Wolverine was also a heavy weight on top of him, a much, _much_ heavier weight than Scott would have expected. His thoughts flitted to the metal claws, now wondering how much of that metal was part of Wolverine’s body. Wolverine fell asleep in a matter of minutes, a deep rumble of contentment coming from him. 

Sometime during the night, they changed positions. Wolverine curled up behind Scott again, his arm once more thrown protectively around Scott’s waist. This time, Scott didn’t feel so strange being the ‘little spoon.’


	4. Friends and Allies

The following morning followed largely the same routine. Scott woke up to another ‘Good morning’ blowjob, but he changed things up by getting Wolverine to switch positions so that he could return the favor at the same time. Wolverine appreciated the sixty-nine. Just like the previous night, it’d been a long time since Scott had sucked another guy’s cock, but that old cliché of riding a bicycle held true. He’d learn what Wolverine liked, but judging by the pleased noises coming from the other man, he was doing a fairly decent job. 

Like before, they headed back to the waterfall. This time, Scott was armed with a bar of soap. Wolverine canon-balled off the outcropping; Scott opted for a more elegant jackknife dive. They didn’t fool around in the water. Wolverine was a bit miffed by the bar of soap, but Scott insisted on scrubbing him with it and Wolverine stood patiently while Scott did his work. Wolverine didn’t mind the soap as much when it was his turn to scrub Scott’s back.

When they got back to the cave, air-dried from their walk, Scott pulled out some of the clothes he’d brought with him. A loincloth was better than nothing, but Scott preferred the X-Men regulation uniforms. Wolverine had the right idea, though. The Savage Land was hot during the day, but cool at night. Scott had already modified some of the spare uniforms so they wouldn’t be so warm, but yesterday’s trip wearing the loincloth had shown him the advantages of stripping the uniform even more. That explained why he stripped one of the blue and gold uniforms down to its briefs. He felt like he was wearing Speedos, which gave him the added advantage of being able to jump in a river or a pool at any time. Wolverine clearly approved of the look. He picked up another uniform and proceeded to do the same thing, slicing the material evenly and cleanly with his claws. Scott couldn’t see colors (but he knew that his own uniform was blue and gold), but judging by the uniform shade of the material in Wolverine’s hand, he was willing to bet that the other man was wearing blue briefs.

“Y’know, couples don’t usually start wearing matching clothing until later in a relationship,” Scott pointed out, grinning. 

Wolverine ignored him, tossing the excess material in Scott’s general direction before heading back to the outcropping to prepare breakfast.

Outside the cave, the second cantaloupe from yesterday’s trip was waiting for them. Scott also pulled out an MRE from his backpack. The label said bacon and eggs. Once again, Scott sat beside Wolverine as the other man began to slice the melon. Wolverine sniffed the MRE curiously when Scott opened it. The bacon and eggs were fashioned into a rectangular pocket that Scott broke in half, passing one half to Wolverine. Wolverine accepted, but he looked at the rectangle in his hand skeptically. Scott held his half up and then took a bite out of the corner. 

“It actually tastes like bacon and eggs,” he said. 

Wolverine shrugged as if to say, _What the hell?_ and then did the same. A look of surprise flitted across his features and then he gave his approval by taking another bite. The melon was only half sliced by the time Wolverine began munching on his bacon and eggs.

“We can have French toast tomorrow,” Scott said, reaching for a slice of melon. Maybe Wolverine wouldn’t guilt-trip him into eating three giant slices today. He could only hope. 

They ate in that same comfortable silence. Scott wasn’t much of a conversationalist (making small talk had been one of those awkward social skills that he’d tried to learn growing up, and even _now_ he couldn’t say that he’d mastered that particular art), but being in Wolverine’s company was easy. There was companionship here. Comradeship. Scott could feel it, and he knew that Wolverine could too. Okay, so they didn’t exactly talk. But being with Wolverine showed how over-rated talking could be.

When breakfast was done, Wolverine turned to look at Scott expectantly. He was waiting for a cue, or an instruction, or some kind of clue as to what Scott wanted to do that day. In other words, he was letting Scott take the lead. 

Scott had a very good idea of what he wanted to do that day, but the challenge would be getting Wolverine to understand. He brought out the radio again and showed it to Wolverine. 

“I need to get somewhere higher,” he told the other man. He pointed upwards, but that only gave Wolverine the idea to look up at the sky. 

Scott tried again. 

He held his left arm at a 45-degree angle, hoping that it looked like the slope of a hill or a mountain. With his other hand, he used his index finger and middle finger to mime walking up the slope of his left arm. At the top, his flattened the fingers of his left hand into a plateau. When his right hand reached the summit of his left hand, he stopped. 

“Here,” he said to Wolverine. “I need to go somewhere higher.”

Scott repeated the action a second time. When he was done, he stood up and tapped the cliff face. Then he pointed upwards. “Top,” he said. “Can we get to the top?” 

Wolverine shook his head. As had become custom, he mimed Scott’s actions to show that he understood, but once his right hand had reached the top of his left hand, he shook his head again. Then, as if the point wasn’t clear enough, he made a giant X with his arms. 

Scott arched an eyebrow, impressed. “Where I come from, that would mean something different,” he observed. 

Wolverine walked over to him and grasped him by the hand. He led Scott to the edge of the outcropping and pointed to the distance. 

“You want to take me there?” Scott questioned.

Wolverine kept pointing. Scott could actually see another cliff in the distance, the summit of which ended in a long plateau. It bore a remarkable similarity to Scott’s crude hand gestures, and the area was definitely high enough. He wondered how long the journey would take, and whether they would have to sleep outdoors. He placed two MREs (though Wolverine’s hunting skills probably made that moot), and his flask of water into the backpack with the radio, and then nodded to show Wolverine that he was ready. 

The other man was ready too. Scott could tell that Wolverine enjoyed physical activity. He was the outdoors type, no pun intended.

They hiked down the cliff and then followed the same path back to the Blackbird. They crossed Scott’s ‘clearing’ and then headed into the jungle on the other side. For a while, they followed the stream that Scott had used to collect water and to bathe, but then Wolverine turned right and they went deeper into the jungle. It was a lot denser here than the jungle nearer Wolverine’s cave and the waterfall. At some point, Wolverine brought the claws out and began hacking the vegetation to create a path. Scott would’ve offered to clear the path with a wide-angle optic blast, if he had any idea of where they were going. As it was, he let Wolverine do the heavy lifting, appreciative of the other man’s skill, strength and stamina. 

Suddenly, Wolverine stopped, instinctively grabbing Scott’s arm at the same time. Scott froze, responding to the coiled tension that he felt in Wolverine’s touch. Something was wrong. 

Wolverine didn’t release him, but he looked at Scott and placed a finger to his lips. 

_Silence._

Scott nodded to show that he understood. Then Wolverine lifted two fingers. After a moment, he straightened his hand, first pointing to the right and then to the left. Once again, Scott understood. It was a combat gesture, one that Scott had used many times. Wolverine’s military training was coming to the fore. There were two hostiles (perhaps two groups of hostiles) approaching them. Wolverine wanted to flank them. Scott tapped his chest and then motioned to the right. Then he tapped Wolverine’s chest and motioned to the left. Wolverine nodded in response, darting to the left side before Scott could re-think his strategy. He watched Wolverine disappear into the vegetation before he made his own move. 

Scott armed his visor as he went, jogging so lightly that his footfalls were almost silent. He didn’t know who the enemy was, but he would rather not kill anyone even if they meant him harm. He set the level of his visor to maximum stun for a human. He figured it was probably the natives, but you could never tell who else might have found themselves stranded on the Forbidden Island.

He halted when he heard a rustle to his left. Someone was near. He dropped into a crouch, finger poised on the trigger, listening. He heard a growl. Scott grimaced. That didn’t sound human at all. He was about to change the setting on his visor when something leaped out of the vegetation. Scott fired, the arc of his beam hitting the creature squarely in the chest. The animal fell to the ground, momentarily stunned. But its reflexes were lightning quick, and it was on its feet again, charging at Scott. Scott released the backpack, shoving it out of the way so the radio wouldn’t be damaged by the fight. But before he could fire another optic blast, the creature had landed on top of him. Scott expected the sharp pain of tearing flesh, but it never came. What he got instead was a warm, wet lick by a rough tongue along the side of his face, followed by another lick. And another. The growl had disappeared to be replaced by an equally loud, contented purr. 

When Scott finally managed to get a glimpse of the creature who was showing him so much affection, he started. 

“ _Zabu_?!”

The sabretooth tiger sat back on its haunches, finally moving off of Scott and allowing him to sit up. 

_Wait a minute. If Zabu was here, that meant_ . . . 

Scott bolted to his feet, his alarm infecting Zabu who got up as well, body tense and alert. 

“Wolverine!” Scott called. “Wolverine!” 

No response.

Scott looked at the giant cat on his right. “Take me to Ka-Zar,” he ordered, picking up the backpack again. 

Zabu understood the command and he bounded back into the jungle, Scott following close behind.

* * *

When Scott burst onto the scene, it was to a stand-off. Scott knew that Ka-Zar was an excellent fighter and was capable of handling whatever the Savage Land threw at him, but it still didn’t seem fair that he should fight someone with deadly claws and a healing factor, especially when there was no need. By contrast, Scott had never actually seen Wolverine fight, but judging by how easily Wolverine hunted and how he’d dispatched the natives that had attacked Scott, plus the military training, well . . . 

“Stop!” Scott yelled, coming between the two men. 

“Scott?” Ka-Zar said in surprise, as Zabu padded up to him, thrusting his large head into Ka-Zar’s free hand. Ka-Zar lowered the spear that he was carrying. 

“Hey,” Scott said in reply, but he was looking at Wolverine. “Funny meeting you here,” he added, as he walked towards Wolverine. The other man was watching their exchange intently. He didn’t look like he was about to attack, but the claws hadn’t been retracted either. The fact that said claws were hanging loosely by his sides was somewhat reassuring to Scott. 

When Scott came to stand in front of Wolverine, the claws disappeared with a faint ‘snikt.’ 

“Ka-Zar is a friend,” Scott told him. 

Wolverine looked put out, as though Scott had deprived him of a good fight. 

“Come on,” Scott cajoled. “Don’t be like that.”

He stepped closer, invading Wolverine’s personal space so that he could place his hand on the other man’s hip. It was an intimate gesture. He was aware of Ka-Zar watching them, but he didn’t care. Wolverine needed reassurance, and that’s what Scott was going to give him. He stroked Wolverine’s hip with his thumb, and when Wolverine tipped his face up for a kiss, Scott obliged. 

Calmer now, Wolverine took Scott’s hand and allowed himself to be led to where Ka-Zar and Zabu were waiting. Wolverine was sulking again by the time they had joined Ka-Zar and something clicked for Scott. 

“Do you two know each other?” he asked. 

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Ka-Zar answered, casually leaning against a boulder with Zabu at his feet. “But I think the better question now is, ‘ _How_ do you two know each other?’”

“Wolverine’s been my guardian angel,” Scott explained. “He saved me from a hunting party of natives that attacked and captured me. We’ve been together ever since.” 

“And what are you doing in the Savage Land, Summers?” 

“I was on my way back to Westchester when the Blackbird’s systems cut out. I crash landed here.” Scott paused. “How about you, Ka-Zar? The Forbidden Island isn’t your territory.”

“No,” Ka-Zar agreed. “It’s not.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how Zabu and I got here,” he admitted. Zabu lifted his head and looked at his master at the sound of his name. Ka-Zar scratched him behind an ear, and Zabu settled down again. “We just sort of . . . woke up . . . on the Forbidden Island. One moment we were home, the next we were here.” 

“Teleportation device?” 

“That was my guess, but I don’t know how.” 

Scott nodded thoughtfully. “You haven’t returned to your home?” he asked, curiously.

“Not for lack of trying,” Ka-Zar told him darkly. “Zabu and I have been here for about a month. The island’s guarded by the Mer people who live on the shore. I’ve tried building a raft twice to get to the mainland, but both times Zabu and I were attacked by the Mer people. There’s just too many of them. We couldn’t get past.” 

“The three of us would even out those odds,” Scott pointed out. 

“Your optic blast would even out those odds,” Ka-Zar agreed. “How about you? Have you tried getting off the island?” 

Scott motioned to the backpack he was carrying. “I have the Blackbird’s radio with me,” he explained. “Wolverine’s bringing me to a plateau on top of a cliff where I should be able to send out a stronger signal to call for help.” 

“Sound plan,” Ka-Zar said, but he looked hesitant. 

“What is it?” Scott asked him. 

“I’m not sure it’ll work.” 

“Why?” 

Ka-Zar sighed, leaning more heavily against the boulder. He crossed his arms. “There’s always been rumors that some kind of magic protected this island,” he began. “That the natives guarded a terrible secret.”

“You mean, the Mer people?” 

“No. The Mer people don’t go beyond the shoreline, but in a way, they’re guardians too. They don’t let anything or anyone escape the island. But who I’m really talking about are the natives who live inland, the ones that probably captured you. The Hannanaki are a violent, warlike tribe, nothing like the tribes back on the mainland.” 

“And what’s this secret that they’re guarding?”

“That, I’m not so sure,” Ka-Zar confessed. “But I’ve heard stories. Do you know about the geological survey that S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to do of the Forbidden Island?” 

“Yes,” Scott said. “I thought it wasn’t finished yet.” 

“It’s not finished because S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t get any of their instruments to work. Shanna went with them as a guide, and the whole trip was a disaster.” Ka-Zar paused. “S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks that the so-called magic of this island is really an advanced technology of some sort. They believe that some kind of barrier protects the Forbidden Island, one that disrupts systems and blocks signals. Who knows what else it could do?” 

“Maybe act as a teleportation device?” Scott offered. 

“Maybe.”

Scott fell silent, considering this new information. Where would the natives get that kind of advanced technology? His thoughts drifted to the paintings adorning Wolverine’s cave. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a clue was there. Beside him, Wolverine moved restlessly, and Scott automatically squeezed his hand. It was Ka-Zar who broke the silence. 

“It’s still worth it to try the radio,” he said. “You never know. You might get through.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Scott agreed. “You and Zabu are welcome to come with us.” 

Ka-Zar raised a skeptical brow. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, nodding at Wolverine. 

Scott almost slapped himself on the forehead. “Where are my manners?” he asked, exasperated with himself. “You two haven’t even been properly introduced.” Then he looked at Ka-Zar. “ _Do_ you two know each other?” he asked, echoing his earlier question.

“Only if you define ‘know’ as almost getting killed by him twice,” Ka-Zar said. “The Forbidden Island isn’t very big, but I try to stay out of his way. Your friend’s extremely violent _and_ territorial. But I guess you’d know about that,” he added, touching his neck lightly. 

Scott flushed, remembering the mark that Wolverine had given him the night before. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the bruise blooming at the junction where neck met shoulder. He could only imagine what it must look like to Ka-Zar in the daylight. 

“I haven’t seen the violent part,” Scott admitted. “But he is a little territorial.” 

“Uh-huh,” Ka-Zar said, his tone suggesting that Scott was the master of understatement. 

“He’s also very kind, protective, generous and caring,” Scott went on. 

“Careful there, Summers,” Ka-Zar teased. “That sounds serious.”

Scott actually had to stop himself from saying that it was. Because his relationship with Wolverine? It _felt_ serious to him. Real. Tangible. Intense in a way that it shouldn’t have been after only a few days in each other’s company. Yet, Scott hadn’t fully considered how things would play out. He’d been too focused on trying to restore communications. But what would happen when he finally contacted the outside world and was rescued? Would Wolverine leave with him? Would Wolverine _want_ to leave with him? Scott realized, without a doubt, that he wanted the answer to be ‘yes,’ but he had no way of knowing what would actually happen. He just knew that he didn’t want to leave Wolverine behind; he didn’t want Wolverine to be alone again. He wanted to help him, and with the resources of the X-Men, Scott was confident that he’d be able to.

Instead of saying any of this, Scott tapped Wolverine on the chest. “Wolverine,” he said, clearly. He motioned to Ka-Zar that the other man should introduce himself. 

Taking his cue from Scott, Ka-Zar also tapped himself on the chest, pronouncing his name very clearly. “ _Kay_ -Zar,” he said, emphasizing the first syllable. Then he patted the sabretooth tiger on the head. “Za- _boo_ ,” he pronounced, as Zabu arched into his touch.

Wolverine looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. Scott nudged him with an elbow. “Play nice,” he whispered. Wolverine fixed him with a long look, which Scott refused to back down from. Finally, Wolverine relented. He grudgingly tapped himself on the chest as acknowledgement before pointing in the general direction of the plateau. 

“Right,” Scott agreed. “We have to get up to the plateau.” He turned to Ka-Zar. “Coming with us?” 

Ka-Zar shrugged, straightening up. “Why not?” he agreed. “Zabu and I don’t have any other plans.”

* * *

The four of them resumed the trek. They were near the bottom of the cliff, and it wasn’t long before they were hiking upwards. Zabu took point along with Wolverine, finding the easiest path for the others to follow. Wolverine may not have liked Ka-Zar much, but he shared an almost instant affinity with Zabu. Scott thought it was the beast inside of Wolverine that made him accept Zabu so easily. 

Wolverine was a paradox. He was a man, but Scott also recognized the beast that resided in him. It explained such things as instinct and territoriality, not to mention those heightened senses.

Scott was drawn out of his thoughts as they approached the summit of the cliff. The area was perfect. Not only did they have a clear view, but there would be no interference for the radio. Scott found a good place to unpack the radio, while Ka-Zar stood guard. Wolverine and Zabu began exploring the plateau. Playing or exploring, Scott couldn’t really tell, but it was good to see Wolverine happy. 

Scott switched the radio on and sent out his distress signal. He waited, and then he repeated the message. He tried the radio for a whole hour while Ka-Zar sat patiently nearby. Finally, he put the receiver down with an audible sigh.

“I think you’re right,” he told Ka-Zar. “I think there’s a signal blocking the island. There’s no reason for the radio not to work up here. It’s powerful enough to receive a long-distance signal, even reach the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. geological authority.” 

“If there is a signal blocker,” Ka-Zar replied. “We’d have to find its source and destroy it.”

Scott nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said. “In Wolverine’s cave, there are a series of paintings on the wall. I’m guessing that some of the natives you spoke of used to live in that cave – maybe even the shaman – before Wolverine kicked them out. Those paintings tell a story, one that I think you’ll be able to piece together better than me. If the natives really are protecting something, then I think those paintings are the clue to figuring out what – and maybe _where_ – that something is.” 

“Are you inviting us to sleep over, Summers?” 

“Well, we can’t stay out here,” Scott replied, matter-of-factly. “We’re too exposed, and when night falls, it’ll become too cold.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Ka-Zar agreed. “What about Wolverine? How’s he going to feel about us invading his home?” 

“He’ll get over it,” Scott said. “Besides, he likes Zabu.” 

As if on cue, the sabretooth tiger appeared, a giant bird in its maws. The bird looked like a prehistoric relative of the eagle.

“I guess somebody brought us lunch,” Scott observed, as Zabu went to his master and dumped the dead bird at Ka-Zar’s feet. 

“And it looks like I have to clean it,” Ka-Zar said, rewarding Zabu with a scratch behind his ears. 

Wolverine came up the plateau and Scott motioned for the other man to join him. Wolverine did so, sitting beside Scott and petting him affectionately. Ka-Zar watched their exchange. 

“How long have you two been together?” he finally asked. 

“A few days,” Scott admitted. 

“He’s really taken to you.” 

Scott didn’t comment. He could tell how attached Wolverine had become. 

“Have you thought about what’s going to happen when you leave?” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Scott answered smoothly.

It was a patented evasive tactic, and if Ka-Zar recognized it, he chose not to comment. Instead, he picked up the prehistoric eagle and began plucking its feathers, while Scott and Wolverine set to creating a spit to roast the bird. They had a late lunch on top of the plateau, the roasted bird supplemented by apple pie MREs from Scott’s backpack. The mood was so positive and laid back that Scott almost forgot that he was trapped on the Forbidden Island.

* * *

By the time they were heading down the cliff, it was clear that they were returning to Wolverine’s cave in a group. Scott took point with Wolverine. He didn’t object when Wolverine grasped his hand as they were walking. Ka-Zar followed behind and Zabu brought up the rear.

Scott killed a prehistoric boar on the way back. (‘Carniboar,’ Ka-Zar called it. Who was Scott to argue?) The angry animal had charged out of the vegetation, and before Wolverine could lunge at it (claws bared, scowl in place), Scott had blasted it away with his optic beam. Wolverine had looked at him accusingly again (it was the second time that day Scott had deprived him of a fight), but there was also a glint in the other man’s eye that showed how impressed he was. Wolverine liked it whenever Scott used his power. Scott shrugged in response. He’d blasted the carniboar out of instinct. Ka-Zar walked by them. 

“I can see why nobody would mess with you two,” he observed. “Good hunting.” 

Scott thought the carniboar was too big to carry back, but Wolverine disagreed. He slung the animal across his broad shoulders and that was that.

Back at the cave, Wolverine was in charge of preparing dinner. Zabu kept him company while he worked on the outcropping. Meanwhile, Scott and Ka-Zar ventured inside the cave, flashlight in hand so that they could look at the paintings. 

“Here,” Scott said, shining the light on the first painting. 

Technically, the flashlight wasn’t necessary at the entrance as daylight filtered into the cave from the outside, but Scott wanted to focus on the details. They slowly made their way down the cave, Ka-Zar observing the paintings silently. When they reached the last one, Scott kept the light focused on the structure that had been built on top of the monster’s remains. 

“Tell me what you think,” he eventually said. 

“I’m glad you showed me these,” Ka-Zar replied. “I’d heard a version of this story before, but it’s different seeing the paintings for myself.” 

“You know what this is about, then?” 

“I have a good idea.”

They moved back to the beginning of the paintings. The afternoon light had fallen, and now the fire from the spit cast its light at the entrance. The carniboar was almost cooked. The smell of the roasting meat was making Scott hungry. He glanced outside and saw Wolverine turning the meat with Zabu lazily stretched out across from him. Those two were doing just fine. He returned his attention to his companion and the paintings. 

“Tell me a story,” he said.

The story Ka-Zar told was very similar to the one Scott had deduced for himself. The people of the island believed that they had been chosen by the gods as guardians. The first painting depicted a ship crash landing on the Forbidden Island. 

“An alien ship?” Scott translated. Alien technology would explain a lot. 

“Yes,” Ka-Zar confirmed. 

The creature that emerged from the ship terrorized the island. The natives were defenseless against it. But just when they thought that all hope was lost, their savior arrived in the form of an enormous golden man, a true giant that could do battle with their enemy. 

“Another alien?” Scott questioned. “Or a machine of some kind?” 

“A bit of both, I think,” Ka-Zar answered. “The paintings aren’t too specific, but what’s clear is that the natives believed this golden man was a god.” 

“Who can blame them?” Scott said. “A giant, golden man appears out of the sky in their hour of need and has the power to vanquish their enemy. Of course, they’d think he was a god.” 

“Ah, but that’s where things get interesting,” Ka-Zar noted. He pointed to the structure that had been built over the creature’s remains. “I don’t think the golden man killed the creature.” 

“So, that’s not a tomb?”

“It’s a _kind_ of tomb,” Ka-Zar amended. “The golden man was able to defeat the creature, but not kill it. I think that ‘tomb’ might be a stasis chamber or some kind of cell that keeps the creature contained.” 

“That would explain the technology on the island,” Scott continued. “If that creature is as big and powerful as you believe it is, then there must be an equally powerful source to keep it contained.” He fell silent. “What happened to the golden man?” he asked, after a moment.

“He built that temple,” Ka-Zar said, pointing to the last painting. “But the temple is just a ruse. It must be the source of the island’s power, built right on top of where the alien is resting. It’s the explanation that makes the most sense.” 

This news troubled Scott deeply. 

“If we take out the power source,” he said. “We’ll be setting that creature free and endangering the lives of everyone on this island.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to come to that,” Ka-Zar replied. “Maybe there’s a way to reduce the power just enough so you can get a signal out and call for help. We won’t know until we see what the power source is like.” 

“Which brings us to another problem,” Scott went on. He turned and began walking back in the direction of the cave entrance, Ka-Zar falling into step beside him. “Do you have any idea where this temple is?” 

“I have more than an idea,” Ka-Zar replied. “You can’t miss it. I’m surprised you didn’t see it from the Blackbird before you crashed.” 

Scott considered what he remembered of the Forbidden Island’s landscape before the Blackbird went down. It was fairly unremarkable, except . . . 

“All I saw was a grotesque face that looked like it had been carved out of a mountain.” Scott stopped. “That was the temple, wasn’t it?” 

“That was the back part of the temple,” Ka-Zar confirmed. “And that grotesque face?”

“Was the alien creature that landed here,” Scott finished. With its tentacled face, it had looked like something out of Lovecraftian horror. Scott shook his head. “If the natives are the guardians, then the temple is sure to be heavily guarded. That doesn’t even include any possible alien technology that’s been set up to protect it. Not to mention their ‘god.’ We have a lot of work ahead of us.” 

Ka-Zar gave him a lopsided grin. They were standing outside the cave now in the twilight. “Well, I have one bit of good news,” he said. 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“Their ‘god’ isn’t around anymore.”

“The cave paintings don’t show that he left.” 

“True, but it’s a well-known part of the story.” 

Ka-Zar walked over to where Zabu was stretched out and sat beside him. The sabretooth tiger lifted his head, shifting so that he leaned comfortably into Ka-Zar, resting his head on Ka-Zar’s lap. Scott sat beside Wolverine. 

“The legend goes,” Ka-Zar continued. “That the golden man stayed and helped the people. Taught them. Showed them things. Changed them physically.” 

“Helped them evolve,” Scott translated. 

“In more ways than one,” Ka-Zar agreed. 

“You think he changed their DNA,” Scott said.

Ka-Zar shrugged. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “I’ve told you that the natives of this island aren’t like the natives of the mainland. They’re not just more warlike – they’re stronger, faster. It’s said they have the ability to heal themselves. They’re . . .” 

“Enhanced,” Scott suggested. 

Ka-Zar nodded, a little grimly. “Anyway, when the god’s job was done, he made the natives the guardians of the temple. Those cave paintings must be ancient,” he added, “if they don’t show that part of the story.” Ka-Zar looked at Scott thoughtfully. “You know who the golden man is,” he said, after a moment. 

“Not personally,” Scott joked. “But I have my suspicions.” 

“Want to share?” 

“I think he was a Celestial.”

That didn’t mean anything to Ka-Zar, but judging by Scott’s expression, it wasn’t good. “I guess we’re lucky he’s no longer around, then,” Ka-Zar hedged. 

“It is,” Scott confirmed. “We wouldn’t be able to take out a Celestial. My whole _team_ wouldn’t be able to take out a Celestial. Distract it, at the most. But not defeat it.”

He sighed, and felt a pat on the back. Scott turned to his left and was met by Wolverine looking at him with concern. Once again, Scott was amazed by how attuned to him Wolverine was, sensing changes in temperament and feeling. 

“Those heightened senses of yours are really something,” he murmured, giving Wolverine a faint smile. That earned him another pat on the back and a wide grin. Scott took a deep breath to clear his head. Then he looked back at Ka-Zar. “We’ll have to start recon on the temple tomorrow and go from there.” 

“You’re the leader of the X-Men, Cyclops,” Ka-Zar reminded him. “I have no doubt you’ll come up with a plan.”


	5. Surveillance

Scott half-expected to be woken up the following morning with Wolverine sucking him. It had become part of their established routine. He found himself both relieved (and mildly disappointed) that that wasn’t the case. Instead, he woke up alone on their bed of furs. Wolverine had so many furs in the cave that it had been easy to give some to Ka-Zar for his own bedding. Ka-Zar had settled down on the opposite side of the cave with Zabu keeping watch nearby.

Scott stood up and stretched. Ka-Zar and Zabu were still sleeping peacefully. He wondered where the two of them had been staying. He’d neglected to ask Ka-Zar the day before. Knowing his friend, Ka-Zar must have fashioned or found a shelter for them. Scott walked by the pair quietly in search of Wolverine. He found the other man outside the cave, facing the landscape in all his naked glory. In an uncharacteristic move, Scott walked right up to him and smacked the other man on the ass. (Somehow, social convention just didn’t hold water in the Savage Land.) Wolverine gave him a sideways look that said Scott wasn’t as stealthy as he thought he was. 

“I wasn’t trying to be stealthy,” Scott said, dropping a kiss on the other man’s forehead. “I don’t think anything can get past those senses of yours, anyway,” he added. 

Wolverine responded with a light nip on Scott’s jaw, wrapping an arm around Scott’s waist. His gaze focused on the path that led to the waterfall. Then he gave Scott a questioning look. 

Scott had followed the direction of Wolverine’s gaze. “That’s real subtle, Wolverine,” he commented, but the truth was, he was thinking the same thing: a quickie by the waterfall before the others woke up.

Once an idea settled with Wolverine, he wouldn’t be dissuaded and he began to push Scott towards the path. 

“All right, all right,” Scott said, grabbing the other man’s hand before he was pushed any further. “Let’s go.” 

Scott knew the way to the waterfall well by now. His footholds were secure, and he didn’t worry about slipping. When they arrived at the waterfall, they jumped over the ledge simultaneously, holding hands on the way down but letting go before they hit the water. Once Scott broke the surface, Wolverine swam to him immediately, pulling Scott behind the curtain of falling water. 

“Afraid that someone’s going to spy on us?” Scott teased, but anything else he’d planned to say was drowned by Wolverine’s hungry kiss.

As Wolverine continued to push him back into the alcove behind the waterfall, Scott quickly realized that the water was shallow there. In a matter of moments, Wolverine had Scott’s back against the wall and was trying to hike Scott’s legs around his waist. 

“Impatient,” Scott muttered, but he was doing his best to get his briefs off before Wolverine tore through them. 

As soon as Scott had managed to pull them off, Wolverine was pushing inside. Without any prep, it burned, but the water reduced some of the sting. 

“Hey, slow down,” Scott said, grabbing Wolverine by the shoulder and squeezing. “Slow down.”

Wolverine must’ve sensed his discomfort because after one final push, he stilled, giving Scott time to get used to him. They were pressed against the alcove, groin to groin as Wolverine bore Scott’s weight. For his part, Scott willed his body to relax, to stop clenching around Wolverine’s wide girth. He took deep breaths, eventually leaning forward to distract Wolverine with a kiss. 

Wolverine was willingly distracted. 

When Scott was ready, he wrapped his arms around Wolverine’s neck and squeezed gently with his legs. Wolverine got the message. His earlier urgency was gone, replaced by contentment. He fucked Scott almost leisurely, long slow strokes that kept Scott pressed against the alcove, his back rubbing against the smooth stone.

“You’re really good at this,” Scott murmured, feeling the tension build in him, the heat coiling in his belly as Wolverine continued to brush against _that_ spot. Then the other man changed angle and it somehow got even better. Scott almost sobbed from the pleasure of it, but Wolverine swallowed that possibility with another one of his deep kisses. Scott came without Wolverine even touching him, his cock trapped between their bodies. Wolverine fucked him with more urgency after that, cutting through the haze of Scott’s post-coital bliss, until he too came with a grunt, holding Scott tightly.

* * *

By the time they returned to the cave, Ka-Zar and Zabu were awake, another bird roasting on the spit. 

“Breakfast,” Ka-Zar said, gesturing at the cooking meat. 

“You went hunting?” Scott asked. He and Wolverine hadn’t been gone _that_ long. 

“Zabu brought it back,” Ka-Zar explained. Then he gave the two men a sly look. “Good swim?” 

Scott didn’t react, meeting Ka-Zar’s knowing smirk head on. “If you take the path to the left, it goes directly to a waterfall,” he explained, non-plussed. “But I’d recommend the longer route, unless Zabu feels like jumping off a waterfall,” he added. 

“I’ll remember that,” Ka-Zar said with a wide grin. 

Wolverine, unabashed by his nakedness, walked by both of them and went into the cave. When he came back out, he was wearing the same briefs as the day before. 

“Matching clothes,” Ka-Zar observed. 

“Don’t start,” Scott said, a little wearily. 

Ka-Zar laughed at Scott’s exasperation. “What’s the plan, Fearless Leader?” he asked, changing the subject. 

“Breakfast and then recon,” Scott replied. “Unless you want to go for a swim?” 

“I’ll save that for later,” Ka-Zar said.

* * *

In contrast to the laid-back lunch on the plateau, breakfast was quick and efficient. Everyone moved with purpose. Even Zabu sensed the air of expectation surrounding his human companions. Before they set out, Scott motioned for Wolverine to follow him into the cave. He wanted to show the other man where they were going. They ventured deeper into the cave, Scott’s flashlight lighting the way. When they stopped in front of the last painting, Scott pointed at the temple. 

“Temple,” Scott stated. “That’s where we’re going. The temple.” 

Wolverine nodded, but he kept his gaze focused on the painting. 

“Hey,” Scott said suddenly, touching the other man on the arm so that Wolverine would look at him. 

Wolverine turned to face him. Even in the darkness of the cave, Scott could read the openness in the other man’s expression, see the alertness in his eyes. 

“When I leave, I want you to come with me,” Scott told him, knowing full well that Wolverine wouldn’t understand. 

Wolverine’s expression softened, and he traced Scott’s bottom lip with his finger. 

“Home, Wolverine,” Scott said, catching Wolverine’s hand in his and kissing the tips of his fingers. “Come home with me.”

There was no indication that Wolverine understood, and Scott hadn’t expected any. He’d said that for himself. It was a confirmation of his own desires, of his own feelings, whether or not Wolverine returned them. But Scott was confident that those feelings were mutual, even if Wolverine couldn’t express himself in the same way. Wolverine made his feelings known through touch, and gesture, and action. Scott had never had such a tactile lover. 

“I don’t know how this would work outside of the Savage Land,” he admitted, one hand running up Wolverine’s brawny arm. “But I’m willing to try, and I think you would be too. The X-Men can help you,” he went on. “We can find out what happened to you, maybe find your family. There must be people out there who care about you, and are wondering what happened to you. Those dog tags tell me that you’re not from the Savage Land.” 

As had become his way, Wolverine mirrored Scott’s gesture, running his free hand up Scott’s arm, making Scott smile. 

“Come on,” Scott said, his little speech over. He tugged the other man back toward the cave entrance. “We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

* * *

Unlike the previous day, Ka-Zar took point with Zabu. Wolverine didn’t mind, content to follow the pair with Scott by his side. However, as they grew nearer their destination, Wolverine noticeably became tense. Scott had no doubt that the other man recognized where they were. For his part, Scott’s geographical sense had given him a good lay of the land. He could accurately judge distances now: from the Blackbird to Wolverine’s cave, to the plateau Wolverine had brought them to, and now the temple. Ka-Zar was right. The island was small, with nothing more than seemingly a half day’s journey apart. He suspected that he could walk from one end of the island to the other in a single day, though he hadn’t tried it yet.

The temple reminded Scott of the ancient Aztec temples that he’d visited. It was triangular in structure, but unlike the smooth surfaces of the Egyptian pyramids, this temple had massive block stairs running up the sides. Strictly speaking, the temple wasn’t triangular as it had four sides, but the fourth side faced the sea and was made of the grotesque face that Scott had seen from the Blackbird. The remaining three sides of the temple were identical, but only one of them had a visible entrance. That just happened to be the side that their group was facing. 

“I’m going around the left,” Ka-Zar said to Scott. “See what I can see.” 

He, Scott and Wolverine were flat on their bellies, covered by the high brush at the edge of the jungle. By contrast, the surrounding area of the temple was clear and flat. It had an excellent line of sight from all three sides, with its fourth side being protected by the sea and the rocks below. Strategically, the temple was well designed, making it virtually impossible to ambush.

Scott nodded, and Ka-Zar and Zabu disappeared into the brush. 

“What do you think?” Scott said to Wolverine when they were alone. 

Wolverine glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow, but remaining silent. 

“Yeah, me too,” Scott agreed. 

As he’d anticipated, the temple was heavily guarded. If it was as important as Ka-Zar believed (and there was no reason to think otherwise), of course the temple would be heavily guarded. First, the temple was surrounded by an outer wall, a perimeter of sorts. Guards were patrolling outside the wall, as well as on top of it. The wall itself was manageable. Scott didn’t think that he, Ka-Zar or Wolverine would have any trouble scaling it. But there were a number of guards. Scott could see at least a dozen, six on the ground and six on the wall. That was just the perimeter. There was more security once they breached the outer wall. 

Between the wall and the entrance to the temple was more flat plain, but the animals roaming those fields were giant gorillas. Not exactly Kong-sized gorillas, but far larger than any gorilla Scott had ever seen in a zoo. He counted another six of those. There were possibly more that he couldn’t see. Pterodactyls patrolled the skies above the temple. Reapers, according to Ka-Zar.

“Spies,” Ka-Zar had warned him. “They have a limited vocabulary, but they can speak.” 

“What about the gorillas?” Scott had asked in return. “Can they speak?” 

“I don’t know,” Ka-Zar had said. “But would it really matter? Their actions speak loud enough.” 

“I guess negotiating our way into the temple is not an option,” Scott had hazarded. 

“Brute force, Cyclops,” Ka-Zar had replied. “That’s probably what’s going to get us into that temple.” 

“A little stealth and strategy wouldn’t hurt either,” Scott had added.

For the moment, stealth and strategy were the names of the game. Their group spent the entire day at the temple, just observing the goings-on. There was a change of the guards in the late afternoon. The dozen on duty trooped out and another dozen filed in. When evening fell, the fires were lit on periodic spaces along the wall, and the entrance to the temple. Scott had barely moved from his spot the whole time, only doing so to relieve himself. Wolverine kept him company, disappearing once to come back with food. He’d picked berries and edible mushrooms. It was a strange meal, but Scott didn’t complain. He’d also brought his flask with him, so he and Wolverine had water to drink during the day. 

Interestingly, the guards didn’t stay outside the wall at night. When it grew dark, the guards on the ground disappeared beyond the wall. They didn’t join their comrades on the wall, so Scott assumed that they went someplace else. It was the same with the gorillas on the plain. Scott could see a few of the hulking creatures bedding down for the night, but he wondered where the others were. If only there was some way to do some recon _inside_ the temple. There were still too many unknowns.

Ka-Zar returned with Zabu. “Are we spending the night?” he asked Scott. Scott passed him the flask and Ka-Zar gratefully took a drink. 

“We could,” Scott said. “But I think we’ve seen enough for now. There’ll be another shift change in the morning,” he added. 

Ka-Zar nodded. The moon was almost full and they could see each other through its light. “It isn’t so safe to move around at night, though,” he pointed out. 

“We can head back to the Blackbird,” Scott told him. “It’s nearer than Wolverine’s cave.” 

“Lead the way.” 

Scott tapped Wolverine on the shoulder, and the other man looked at him. “Blackbird,” Scott said, hoping that Wolverine would recognize the word. He made a flying object shape with his right hand, moving it in a downward trajectory. “Blackbird,” he repeated. “Take us to the Blackbird.” 

Wolverine nodded, and the three of them followed him into the darkness of the jungle.

* * *

Just like before, Scott found the Blackbird secure, her perimeter untouched. 

“Nice fortifications,” Ka-Zar commented, as they entered through the back hatchway. ‘You’ve been busy.” 

“I had a lot of time,” Scott replied. He switched on the small emergency lights that lined the Blackbird’s main fuselage. “I still have some bottled water here,” he said, moving towards the stash. “And I left some of the MREs behind, just in case.” 

Scott opened the box that contained the food stores, tossing a bottle of water each to Ka-Zar and Wolverine. Then he remembered Zabu and tossed a second bottle of water to Ka-Zar. He didn’t bother reading the labels on the MREs as he pulled them out, following the same routine: one to Wolverine, two to Ka-Zar and one for himself. He left it up to chance and hoped nobody got a dessert like pecan pie. 

“BLT,” Ka-Zar said approvingly. He checked the label on Zabu’s MRE before ripping it open. “You got roast chicken and steamed vegetables, you lucky cat.”

The three of them were sitting in the Blackbird’s passenger seats, Scott and Wolverine beside each other along the aisle seats with Ka-Zar across from them. Meanwhile, Zabu had stretched out along the aisle itself, making it impossible for anybody to get past his bulk. If someone tried to sneak into the Blackbird while they were asleep, that person would trip over Zabu and then get ripped to shreds. Zabu made an excellent guard cat. The sabretooth took the MRE with his front paws when Ka-Zar passed it to him, and began to lick and nibble surprisingly delicately on his roast chicken and steamed vegetables. 

Scott sneaked a look at Wolverine’s MRE before the other man opened it. It was meatloaf. He didn’t think Wolverine would mind that. His own MRE said, ‘Seafood Surprise,’ which had made him raise an eyebrow. He wanted practical food, not a ‘surprise.’ Still, he opened the MRE and allowed Wolverine to sniff its contents, letting the other man judge which one he preferred. The fact that Wolverine chose the meatloaf didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in Scott.

“They should’ve just called this ‘clam chowder,’” Scott said to himself after taking the first bite. It wasn’t _quite_ clam chowder, but it was close enough. Maybe Manhattan Clam Chowder. 

They ate quietly, thinking over the day’s events or, in Zabu’s case, just enjoying the peace and quiet. When the meal was done, Scott collected the wrappers and placed them in the Blackbird’s trash can. (Disposing of trash really was a problem in the Savage Land. Scott didn’t want to be the one responsible for leaving non-biodegradable waste on the pristine island.) 

“Any thoughts on what we’re going to do next?” Ka-Zar eventually asked. 

“I think the best time to try and enter the temple would be at night,” Scott said. “It’s not that there’s less security, it’s more that there’s no cover during the day. They’d see us coming a mile away. Literally.” 

“Agreed.”

“Are you sure the fourth wall, the one facing the sea is impassable? Entering from there would definitely take the Hannanaki by surprise. Plus, we wouldn’t have to go through the outer wall.” 

“I’m don’t know about impassable,” Ka-Zar admitted. “But it would be extremely difficult. We could take a look tomorrow,” he suggested. 

“Let’s do that,” Scott agreed. “We’re going to need a few more days of surveillance,” he went on. “Learn the routines of the guards beyond their shift changes. Find out more about what’s inside the temple, if possible. I hate the thought of going in there blind without any idea of the temple’s layout or what kind of technology the temple has.” He shook his head. “Too many variables.” 

“You really are a strategist, Summers,” Ka-Zar observed. 

Scott shrugged. “It’s the training,” he said. “Strategy has been hardwired into my system.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re the one heading this mission.” Ka-Zar nodded at Wolverine. “I suspect your friend would go in there guns – _claws_ ,” he corrected, “blazing. I’ve seen him go on a berserker rage. It’s terrifying.” 

“I haven’t seen that,” Scott said, running a hand down Wolverine’s arm, not sure he wanted to see such a thing. Wolverine automatically leaned into his touch. “But with his healing factor, who knows how old he is? He could probably launch a frontal assault at that temple and not be taken down.” 

“Scott, you could level that temple with your gaze and not be taken down,” Ka-Zar reminded him. 

“Yeah, well, let’s avoid any unnecessary loss of life and try not to destroy the beautiful ancient structure while we’re at it,” Scott said.

“Even if it contains alien technology to contain an alien invader?” 

“ _Especially_ because it contains alien technology to contain an alien invader. I want a proper look at the signal generator before we destroy anything.” Scott glanced to his left and saw how Wolverine was looking at him. He recognized that look. 

Apparently, Ka-Zar did as well because he said, “Should Zabu and I leave you two alone?” 

“Shut up,” Scott retorted, but it was in good humor. “Anyway, I don’t think you could move Zabu at this point.” 

It was true. The sabretooth tiger was sleeping soundly at their feet, the gentle sounds of human conversation washing over him. He looked content.

Scott stood up, climbing over the seats so as not to disturb Zabu and tossed Ka-Zar a spare blanket. “No pillows, I’m afraid,” he added. “But the seats recline, so you shouldn’t be too uncomfortable.” 

“You’re a full-service host, Summers.” 

“I try,” Scott snarked back. He motioned for Wolverine to follow him. The other man clambered over the seats with not quite as much finesse as Scott had, joining him near the hatchway. “We’ll be back in a little while,” Scott told Ka-Zar, switching off the emergency lights as he did so. 

The Blackbird’s interior dimmed, but wasn’t flooded by darkness. Moonlight shone through the windows of the jet as Scott and Wolverine exited. 

Outside, Scott headed for the edge of the jungle. No sooner had he reached the tree line than Wolverine had pushed him against the nearest trunk, pulled down his briefs and began to suck him. 

“You’re insatiable,” Scott murmured, his right hand dropping onto Wolverine’s head, gripping his hair but not too tightly.

Wolverine’s mouth was hungry and hot. He made quick work of Scott, who spilled into that waiting heat, his hands now holding the back of Scott’s thighs. When he was done, he licked Scott clean as usual and then sat back on his heels. Waiting. 

Scott leaned against the tree trunk, body loose and relaxed. When he glanced down and saw Wolverine’s expectant expression, he came to his senses. He used the opportunity to push the other man down onto the ground and then straddled him. When he leaned over for a kiss, he could already feel Wolverine’s erection pressing into his ass. Scott could taste himself in their kiss, salty and a little bitter. Sharing cum was not one of his fetishes, but Wolverine made it hot.

When their kiss grew too urgent, Scott broke it off, placing one hand flat on Wolverine’s chest to prevent the other man from moving. Wolverine stayed still as Scott trailed a line of kisses down his body, finally reaching the cock that was straining against the confines of its briefs. Scott peeled the material back, Wolverine’s cock jutting proudly into the night air. Scott spit into his hand and then held the base with his fist as he began to suck. Wolverine helped him along, canting his hips to get a better angle into Scott’s mouth. Scott relaxed his throat, taking more of that monster cock in. He was getting better at this, at learning what Wolverine liked. With his other hand, he began to fondle Wolverine’s balls, earning a pleased growl from the other man. Impetuously, one finger circled the rim of Wolverine’s hole. He waited for a telltale sign of tension or hesitation, but none came. Scott pushed his finger inside. 

The reaction was instantaneous. 

Wolverine arched off the ground, nearly gagging Scott in the process. Scott pulled off of Wolverine’s cock, chuckling lightly, his lips wet with the other man’s fluid. 

“You like that, huh?” he teased. 

Wolverine’s response was a low whine of complaint. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott murmured, lips settling over Wolverine’s cock again.

This time, he laid his forearm across Wolverine’s abdomen to pin him, spitting onto the fingers of his other hand, before reinserting said finger into Wolverine’s ass. He massaged the passage gently, seeking that tiny nub. He knew he’d found it when Wolverine arched again, more violently than before, but this time Scott was prepared. He didn’t gag at the unexpected thrust, holding Wolverine down securely. He inserted a second finger and continued to massage, mouth still bobbing up and down on the other man’s dick. Wolverine’s breathing had become audible and ragged. The sudden grip on Scott’s hair told him that the other man was close. Even Wolverine’s stamina was no match for Scott’s double assault. He came with a jerk, his body seizing for a moment as warm fluid coated Scott’s tongue. Scott couldn’t catch it all, cum escaping out of the corner of his mouth. 

Eventually, Scott released the other man’s softening cock, wiping the excess cum from his face with the back of his hand. He sat back, taking a moment to admire Wolverine in the moonlight. The other man’s eyes were shut, one hand splayed on his chest as his breathing returned to normal. _He looked peaceful_ , Scott realized. Happy. Content. Did Wolverine belong in the Savage Land? Was it wrong for Scott to take him away? He pushed those unpleasant thoughts aside. When the time came, it would be a choice. Scott would always let Wolverine choose. 

The scene was washed in shades of pink and red through Scott’s visor. Not for the first time, Scott wondered what color Wolverine’s hair was or the color of the other man’s eyes. These were details someone would have to tell him, or a telepath show him. As if on cue, Wolverine opened his eyes. He reached for Scott and Scott moved forward in response, settling himself on top of Wolverine’s chest, knowing that those strong arms would envelope him. 

They did.

* * *

Scott wasn’t sure how long they lay there at the edge of the jungle, but at some point, he sat up and began to look for his discarded briefs. He didn’t want to stay outdoors all night; it wasn’t safe. Wolverine was slower to move, but he followed Scott’s lead. However, they didn’t head back to the Blackbird. They were near the stream, and Scott’s penchant for hygiene was coming to the fore. So, they trekked to the stream in the moonlight and had a quick bath. 

Afterwards, they returned to the Blackbird as noiselessly as possible. Zabu still lifted his head when Scott entered the hatchway, but put it down again when he saw who it was. Scott pulled out the second blanket, laying it on the floor of the cargo hold in the area between the seats and the hatchway. He and Wolverine could’ve reclined in one of the seats like Ka-Zar was doing, but that would mean sleeping apart. Somehow, Scott knew that Wolverine wouldn’t like that. So, he made a makeshift bed in the cargo hold, using his arm as a pillow and settled down on his side, waiting for Wolverine to curl up behind him. 

Scott liked being the ‘little spoon.’


	6. The Temple of the Gods

True to his word, Ka-Zar brought them to the fourth side of the temple with the face of the monster looking out towards the sea. They crept along the shoreline during low tide, keeping out of the gaze of the flying Reapers, and avoiding the Mer people as well. According to Ka-Zar, the Mer people’s village was further down the shore, but it wasn’t unheard of them to go patrolling along the beaches or to go fishing near the temple. It was widely acknowledged that the shoreline was their territory. The Hannanaki and the Mer people apparently had little to do with each other, but both tribes were considered hostile. 

Scott didn’t like the look of the cliff face that greeted them at the base of the temple. It would be difficult to scale, even with the proper equipment. Worse, the area was only accessible during low tide, like it was now. 

“I can climb that,” Ka-Zar told him confidently. 

“You’re not Spider-Man,” Scott replied. 

“No, but I’ve had a lot of experience free climbing,” Ka-Zar countered. He gestured at the cliff. “This is above medium difficulty, but nowhere near impossible. In fact, it’s a lot better than I thought it would be.” 

“Show off,” Scott said, but he was grinning. He looked back at the cliff face. “I can help you,” he said. 

“How?” 

“If you need an extra handhold or a foothold, point to where you want it made,” Scott instructed. “My aim is accurate.” 

“So, you won’t take off an arm or a leg?” Ka-Zar teased. 

“Not unless you want me to.”

Ka-Zar shook his head. “And people say that Cyclops doesn’t have a sense of humor,” he commented. He gave Scott a quick nod. “Let’s do this.” 

“Wait,” Scott said. “What will you do when you get to the top?” 

Ka-Zar shrugged. “Have a look around. Try not to get caught,” he answered. 

“How long will that take?” 

“I don’t know. Can’t we just play this by ear?” 

“It’s hard to play things by ear when we don’t have a means to communicate,” Scott reminded him. “What if something goes wrong?” 

“Then we’ll really have to improvise.” 

Scott shook his head, but it wasn’t a sign of refusal. “Go on, then,” he told Ka-Zar. “Wolverine and I will keep a look out for the Reapers.”

Ka-Zar began walking to the base of the cliff, Zabu padding after him. “No,” Ka-Zar told the sabretooth tiger. “Stay with Scott.” 

Zabu was clearly displeased by the instruction, but it was plain that he wouldn’t be able to follow Ka-Zar. He paced for a little while at the base of the cliff when Ka-Zar began his climb, eventually slinking back to where Scott stood. He sat down beside Scott and looked up at him a little mournfully. 

“Ka-Zar will be just fine,” Scott said, stroking Zabu’s strong head.

Scott’s attention was divided. He was focused on Ka-Zar’s progress, but he would periodically look up to see if the skies were clear. The Reapers were fewer this morning. There had been four patrolling the day before, but now there was only a pair of them circling lazily. These two apparently preferred flying over the land, rather than monitoring the shore. He motioned to Wolverine to keep an eye on the skies by tapping his visor and then pointing upwards. He made a circling motion with his pointer finger to indicate the Reapers. He wasn’t too sure what Wolverine would make of the gestures, but the other man nodded, indicating that he’d taken something out of Scott’s actions. 

When a Reaper came into view, Scott and Wolverine ducked into the shadow of the cliff. Zabu joined them out of habit, though he shouldn’t have attracted much attention on his own. Ironically, Ka-Zar was the one who was best hidden, flat against the cliff surface, unless the Reaper was coming from the sea. The shadow flew past and Scott moved away from the cliff. The angle was too steep from the base to help Ka-Zar as he’d offered. 

The action couldn’t have come sooner as Ka-Zar had stopped his ascent. He glanced behind him, catching Scott’s attention before pointing to a spot on the cliff face. Scott aimed, setting the level of his beam strong enough to cut through the rock. He fired, creating a perfect handhold. Ka-Zar gave him a thumbs up and continued his climb. It was getting harder for him to find good handholds and footholds. After almost every step, Ka-Zar would stop and point at a spot for Scott to use his optic beam. Scott realized, as he fired beam after beam into the cliff face, that he’d probably be using those same handholds and footholds fairly soon. He memorized where they were, mapping Ka-Zar’s ascent in his mind’s eye.

Wolverine tapped him on the shoulder. A Reaper was coming back. Scott wondered if the flying lizard had seen the red flashes of his optic beam. It seemed unlikely. The cliff would’ve hidden those flashes. Scott motioned for Ka-Zar to keep low, before Wolverine pushed him back into the shadows. Ka-Zar flattened himself against the rock. He was so near the top. One more step and he’d be able to swing himself onto the temple grounds. 

What Ka-Zar didn’t know – and couldn’t see – was that a lone guard was making the rounds at the back of the temple. Where the cliff ended, the carved face of the monstrous creature began, making up the back part of the temple. On either side of that face was an extension of the perimeter wall that their group had observed the day before. 

Ka-Zar remained still. The guard had stopped above him, resting his spear against the wall. He pulled down the pipe that swung from his belt and lit it. The rich smoke that filtered down to Ka-Zar’s senses alerted him to the guard’s presence. He grimaced. Talk about bad timing.

Suddenly, a cry was heard. The Reaper had flown further out and had spotted Ka-Zar on the cliff. Ka-Zar heard an answering grunt and then the face of the guard appeared over the edge of the wall. Acting on instinct, Ka-Zar reached out and grabbed the man by the arm, jerking him forward. Panic spread across the guard’s face before he fell, too stunned to cry out. There was a sickening squelch when his body hit the rocks below. 

Scott acted on instinct as well. The Reaper had warned the guard, but hadn’t yet alerted the whole temple. Scott increased the power of his optic beam and fired, hitting the Reaper squarely in the chest. The pterodactyl made a gurgling noise as the force of Scott’s beam pushed it backwards. It seemed to be suspended in the air for a moment before it fell. Wolverine leaped out of the shadows instantly, charging towards the fallen Reaper. He plunged both his claws into the giant flying lizard to make sure it was dead. 

Scott tensed, listening. No alarm was being raised. He expected Ka-Zar to begin climbing downward, but instead the other man swung over the edge of the wall, landing lightly on the other side.

“Dammit,” Scott said under his breath. 

This was not going according to plan. The missing guard would eventually be discovered; the Reaper’s companion would wonder what had happened to his or her partner. They needed to leave, but Ka-Zar had just snuck onto the temple grounds. What Scott wouldn’t give for Emma or Betsy’s telepathic power at that moment just so he could communicate with Ka-Zar. 

What he got instead was Ka-Zar appearing at the top of the wall. He was gesturing to Scott, motioning that Scott should leave. 

_What?_

Scott shook his head. Ka-Zar held up ten fingers and then added another two. _Twelve_. Then he pointed downwards. 

_Twelve hours_ , Scott translated.

Ka-Zar wanted to meet here in twelve hours, during the next low tide. It would be night by then. Scott bent his head, thinking. Twelve hours was a long time. Enough time for Ka-Zar to get the reconnaissance they needed, enough time to get _caught_. Scott weighed the risks carefully, recognizing that he had no way of making Ka-Zar come down the cliff. Reluctantly, he gave his agreement. He knew that he and Wolverine couldn’t stay, not when the guard and Reaper were discovered. He’d have to trust in Ka-Zar’s stealth and subterfuge to not get caught. Meanwhile, he and Wolverine had to do something about the Reaper. A guard falling to his death wasn’t necessarily foul play. It could simply be carelessness, an accident. But a Reaper with Wolverine’s claws gutting it would be a sure sign that the temple was being threatened. 

“Wolverine,” Scott said, motioning to the other man. Scott made sure the coast was clear before he headed for the dead Reaper, Wolverine by his side. “Help me,” he told the other man, grabbing the pterodactyl by its hind legs and beginning to drag it to the water. 

Wolverine understood what Scott meant to do, but instead of helping him, the claws came out. Scott watched as Wolverine carved up the dead Reaper, making it easier to both move and dispose of the body. The job done, Scott lead them back the way they had come, once more keeping out of sight of the Mer people and sticking close to shore. Zabu trotted beside him, not pleased to be leaving his master, but also following his master’s orders.

* * *

From the beach, the three of them climbed to a higher vantage point to observe the temple. There may have been fewer Reapers patrolling, but there were also more guards. From this height, Scott counted twenty guards milling about outside the wall, along the outer perimeter, and the area inside. The giant gorillas were still there, eight of them today. The scene before him was relaxed, however, giving no indication that the missing guard had been noticed or that one of the flying spies was gone. Maybe it wasn’t unheard of for a Reaper to take off during patrol. Scott couldn’t be sure. Whatever the reason, he was thankful. The relaxed atmosphere gave Ka-Zar a better chance of doing his reconnaissance undetected. 

Unlike the previous day, they didn’t stay in their spot for the rest of the afternoon. Scott was thinking ahead to the rendezvous that night. They needed to prepare. That also included a worst-case scenario in which Ka-Zar had been captured. 

Scott could feel the persona of Cyclops coming to the fore. This was mission prep, and he welcomed the familiar sense of purpose. The first thing he did was find strong vines that could be tied together into a makeshift rope. Wolverine helped with this. The other man was good at cutting the long vines and joining them together. Then, using one of the finer vines, Scott fashioned a strap for the flashlight that could be tied around his visor without impeding the trigger. He might have to scale the cliff face to go after Ka-Zar and that would be hard to do in the darkness. 

Beyond preparing for the potential night climb, Cyclops decided that some training with Wolverine was in order. If they had to fight side-by-side, they needed to be on the same page. He remembered Wolverine’s combat hand signals and knew that the other man already had training. Cyclops just needed to make sure that the other man understood _his_ signals.

They returned to the Blackbird to train, using the open field as their practice space. Zabu watched them, settling along the back hatchway of the Blackbird and enjoying the shade. When a trio of dinosaurs appeared, Cyclops was actually relieved to see them. They were a medium-sized pack. In fact, they looked like the same species that had attacked Cyclops on the day that he’d crashed the Blackbird on the plain. The dinos weren’t exactly the same as Danger Room sims, but they were better than nothing, presenting their own unique challenge. Cyclops could’ve handled the pack on his own like he’d done before. He was equally confident that Wolverine would’ve had no trouble dealing with the creatures, but the trick would be taking the dinos down together – as a team. 

The trio of dinos approached them head on, not even attempting to flank them. The middle dino was clearly the pack leader, and the group stopped about twenty yards away from Cyclops and Wolverine. There was a moment of anticipation as the two groups eyed each other. Subtly, Cyclops gestured to Wolverine that he should take the dino nearest to him on the right. Scott would deal with the leader. Whoever was done first between them could take the straggler on the left. 

The dinos charged as a single unit. Wolverine leaped into action with a growl, claws raking down the shoulder and belly of the dino on the right. The dino snapped its long neck to the left, but Wolverine was too quick. He’d already leaped onto the dino’s back, balancing himself as he drove his claws into the dino’s chest, aiming straight for the creature’s heart. The dino let out a pitiful cry as it fell, Wolverine once again leaping and landing gracefully on the ground before the dino even hit the dirt.

With a quick gesture, Cyclops motioned to the dino on the left, and Wolverine was off. Cyclops hadn’t even moved from his spot, allowing the leader to come to him. He must have looked like easy prey: a half-naked man, bronzed by the sun, with no apparent weapons of any kind. He stood his ground, finger poised on the trigger of his visor, the setting of his optic beam high enough to kill the creature with one blast. Through his peripheral vision, Cyclops saw Wolverine taking down the second dino. 

He fired.

* * *

Using the clock in the Blackbird, Cyclops brought his team back to the cliff at around 8:00pm. He detoured to the front side of the temple where he left Zabu to wait. If the sabretooth tiger could’ve spoken, Cyclops was certain that Zabu would’ve voiced his displeasure, but he held firm. Zabu would not be of use to them at the cliff. But if he and Wolverine were forced to enter the temple to go after Ka-Zar, then Zabu’s best opportunity of joining them would be through the front gate. Scott would blast a hole in the outer wall for Zabu to enter, if it came to that. 

The moon was full on this night, and the shoreline was so well lit that Cyclops didn’t need the flashlight. He and Wolverine reached the base of the cliff in good time. As far as Cyclops could tell, there wasn’t additional security as he’d feared. It meant that Ka-Zar had done his job and had not been caught. Now if only he made the rendezvous on time. 

They waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

After Cyclops had estimated that over an hour had passed, he stood up. Wolverine automatically stood up with him. 

“Looks like we have a climb ahead of us,” Cyclops told the other man. 

Wolverine was carrying the rope of vine wrapped around his right shoulder, but when Cyclops tried to reach for it, Wolverine stepped away. He shook his head. 

“Wolverine,” Cyclops said sternly. “We need to get up there.”

Wolverine tapped his chest and then pointed at the cliff face. He unleashed a set of claws for good measure, holding them upright in the moonlight. 

_Ah_ , Cyclops thought. _He wants to go first_. 

It wasn’t a bad idea. 

Wolverine had a healing factor. A fall would be extremely painful, but it wouldn’t kill him. As for the climb itself, those razor claws of his would dig into the rock, providing the best type of handholds. Wolverine wouldn’t have to worry about his grip going up, just about finding secure footholds as he climbed. When he reached the top, he could tie the rope and then throw it back down to Cyclops, making Scott’s own climb easier and less dangerous. 

It wasn’t a bad idea at all.

Cyclops held out the flashlight, but Wolverine shook his head. The other man didn’t need the extra light, making Cyclops wonder how good his eyesight was. 

Without further communication, Wolverine went to the base of the cliff. He crouched. In an explosive burst, Wolverine leaped upward, covering at least two whole body lengths before landing securely against the face of the cliff. 

Cyclops arched an eyebrow. He was impressed. 

Wolverine didn’t look below him as he began his climb. He moved more quickly and efficiently than Ka-Zar had done, despite the darkness. Cyclops followed his steady progress as best as he could, vaguely reminded of Spider-Man but without the grace. 

When Wolverine reached the top, he paused for a moment before swinging over the wall. Cyclops waited. Two minutes later, the rope of vine reached him. Cyclops gave the rope two, hard, experimental tugs. It held. With the rope secure, he attached the flashlight to his visor, keeping it on the left side of his face since the trigger was on the right. He switched it on, the light illuminating the rock before him. He didn’t have Wolverine’s keen eyesight, and the deep shadows on the cliff face meant that the moonlight didn’t penetrate through all the nooks and crannies. Not to mention that the nighttime world was dark enough through his visor.

Cyclops’s progress up the wall was slower than Wolverine’s, but it was steady. He gripped the rope firmly, using it as leverage as he climbed the cliff. When he needed an extra foothold, he made it. Just before he reached the top, he switched off the flashlight. Wolverine was already extending his arm, and Cyclops grasped it, allowing the other man to pull him forward. 

Once over the wall, both men remained crouched. Cyclops removed the flashlight, adjusting the strap so that he could tie it around his waist to keep his hands free. Meanwhile, Wolverine was gathering the rope. He untied the knot that had held it secure. When the rope was bundled together, he looked at Cyclops questioningly, uncertain what to do with it. Cyclops pointed to a darkened corner behind him that marked the edge of the monster’s carved face. They would leave the rope here in case this proved to be their only exit. 

Creeping to the other side of the wall, Cyclops saw for the first time what Ka-Zar had seen during the day. The wall didn’t seem to provide any direct access to the temple. It was just that – a perimeter wall. But the difference of sneaking in here instead of, say, entering via the front gate, was that this section of the wall was much closer to the temple entrance. He and Wolverine wouldn’t have to cross the plain populated by giant gorillas. If they were very lucky, they wouldn’t run into any guards aside from the two guarding the entrance itself. They could handle two guards, maybe even create a diversion in order to slip past them. 

He and Wolverine were not lucky.

They made it down to the ground without being seen, staying close to the outer façade of the temple. Cyclops’s first impulse was to enter the temple. If Ka-Zar had been caught, then that’s probably where he was being kept. It he hadn’t been caught, but also hadn’t managed to find a way out, then the temple was where he was probably hiding. Inside the temple, Cyclops would also be able to do some recon of his own. Entering the temple was the objective that made the most sense. 

From their position at the side of the base of the temple’s steps, Cyclops could see the two guards. He was about to throw a rock near them as a distraction, but ended up not having to when a voice from inside the temple called to them. The guards looked at each other before leaving their posts. Cyclops scanned the surrounding area. None of the gorillas were near them, and none of the roving guards had seen them. A quick run up the steps seemed possible. Cyclops motioned to Wolverine what they were going to do and the other man nodded. 

They were only halfway up the steps when the alarm sounded. 

“Unbelievable,” Cyclops muttered.

Both men turned. The nearest gorilla was already charging towards them, its brethren not far behind. The natives were shouting. Cyclops could hear angry voices and footsteps running down the temple’s entrance hallway. He would take care of that group. But first, he motioned to Wolverine to deal with the gorilla that was almost upon them. 

As Wolverine was leaping off the temple steps to meet the gorilla head on, Cyclops fired a powerful optic beam into the outer wall in the far distance. The impact created a terrific explosion, sending stone and earth flying. The shouts of the natives grew more alarmed, some of them blown off their feet by the blast. There was a roar as Zabu came charging through the opening that Cyclops had made. Two of the guards who had been running towards the temple were picked off by the sabretooth tiger. Some of the guards stopped to face their unexpected opponent, their spears raised. The rest of the guards kept going, heading for the temple and the battle in front of the temple steps. 

Wolverine was on the ground, slashing and clawing his way through the giant gorillas that were attempting to surround him. Cyclops was able to hit three of those gorillas with his optic beam, buying Wolverine some time to regroup. That was all he could manage, however, since the two sentries had returned with reinforcements. Cyclops turned around to face them, hitting the first two guards with his optic beam. They were hurled backwards, knocking down some of their companions in the process. The others kept rushing forward.

By now, the guards were too near to use his beam. Cyclops dropped into a fighting stance at the top of the steps as the first guard charged, his spear thrust in front of him. Cyclops dodged the spear strike easily, grabbing the weapon with his left hand, using the momentum of the strike to hurl the guard down the steps. With the spear in his left hand, he blocked the next strike from the next guard, kicking the man in the abdomen before bringing the spear down on his back. The man crumpled at Cyclops’s feet. The momentary breather allowed Cyclops to fire his beam, refracting it off the wall of the temple so that he could hit two more guards. 

He glanced to his left. Other guards were crossing the plain, trying to stay out of Zabu’s grasp. Cyclops fired four consecutive strikes, knocking four guards out. Abruptly, he felt the burn of something slashing his lower back. He looked down. The guard at his feet had produced a knife and had cut him with it. Cyclops kneed him in the face, sending the man sprawling. He barely had enough time to parry another thrust from another attacker. Cyclops blocked the blow and then ducked, spearing his attacker on the right, while he hit the one on his left with his beam. 

It was while he was crouched low in a defensive stance that he heard a welcome roar. Zabu bounded up the steps, sharp teeth bared in a threatening snarl as he came to a halt beside Cyclops. Cyclops glanced at his four-legged companion. Zabu didn’t look the worse for wear, and there were no immediate wounds that he could see. The natives that had tried to stop him had been taken care of. Scott didn’t think Zabu had killed them all, but there were plenty of torn and bleeding bodies scattered across the plain. Zabu’s growl remained low and threatening. As the sabretooth tiger took a step forward, the remaining natives that formed a semi-circle around the two of them all took a step back. There was fear and deference in their actions. 

Cyclops could hear the growls coming from the fight at the bottom of the temple steps. Through his peripheral vision, he checked to see how Wolverine was doing. There appeared to be only one gorilla left standing. The others were broken or bleeding, their paws, arms or legs clawed off. Cyclops watched, flinching inside, as Wolverine drove his claws into the last beast, directly into the gorilla’s heart. The animal died with a loud cry. That was the one thing Cyclops hadn’t been able to get through to Wolverine – the concept of non-lethal force. He hadn’t had enough time. Cyclops had stunned or disabled all the natives he’d fought; Wolverine had slaughtered the gorillas.

The last gorilla dead, Wolverine stalked up the steps to join them. His claws were slick with blood and dark patches of it covered his body. But like Zabu, he didn’t look the worse for wear. Cyclops suspected that very little of that blood belonged to Wolverine. 

Wolverine came to stand on Cyclops’s right, while Zabu protected his left. A look of displeasure crossed Wolverine’s face when his gaze landed on the gash on Scott’s back. Cyclops motioned that he was fine, wondering how he could prevent Wolverine from butchering these men. No matter how well trained or genetically enhanced, these natives were no match for the three of them. Cyclops didn’t want them to die. If only they would surrender . . . 

Two loud claps came from inside the temple, and the remaining guards dropped to one knee, heads bent. 

Cyclops exchanged a perplexed look with Wolverine. What was happening? The sudden show of submission didn’t ease the other man’s tension. Wolverine took up a fighting stance, slightly crouched, claws ready to strike. Cyclops held the spear upright in his left hand, but kept a finger on the trigger of his visor. Zabu also remained alert, ready to pounce. 

Stillness.

The sound of footsteps came down the temple’s entrance hallway. A statuesque woman emerged, dark hair trailing down to her waist. She was wearing an elaborate headdress, shaped like the head of a sabretooth tiger. Her dark eyes fell on Zabu before focusing on Cyclops. She bowed before him, hands forming some gesture of greeting. 

Cyclops thought of an appropriate response. The strategy had just changed. Perhaps he would be able to negotiate their way into the temple after all. This woman was important, maybe even the priestess of the temple. He was about to imitate her actions when a voice stopped him. 

“Geez, Cyclops. What took you so long?”


	7. Calling Home

Ka-Zar appeared out of the temple, trailed by what looked like the handmaidens of the priestess, judging by their similar attire but without the headdress. 

Cyclops was about to speak, but a warning in Ka-Zar’s eyes kept him silent. He watched as Ka-Zar approached him, and then dropped down to one knee in front of him. At the same time, he made a quick gesture to Zabu that the natives couldn’t see. Understanding his master’s intentions, Zabu padded over to Cyclops and rubbed his large body against Cyclops’s legs, before thrusting his head under Scott’s hand, looking for a pat. Cyclops, still trying to process what was happening, transferred the spear to his right hand and stroked Zabu’s head with his left. The sabretooth tiger purred, settling himself against Scott’s leg, as though Scott were his master. 

It was at that moment that Ka-Zar spoke . . . in a language that Scott failed to comprehend. 

_“Greetings, my lord Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, God of a Thousand Suns. Your herald has delivered your message, and the temple has been readied for your stay. The Dark Walker awaits, and the people seek your blessing.”_

The only words that Scott understood were his own name, ‘Cyclops’ and ‘X-Men.’ And since when was Ka-Zar able to speak the language of the Hannanaki? 

With his head bent and his voice pitched low, Scott said to Ka-Zar, “Can they understand me?” 

“No,” Ka-Zar replied in equally low tones. “Just play along. They’ll understand your actions.” 

“And who am I supposed to be?” 

“The God of a Thousand Suns.” 

“And you are?” 

“Your herald.” 

“Appropriate,” Scott muttered, straightening up. He spoke loudly, addressing Ka-Zar clearly, even though the natives couldn’t understand his words. “Arise, herald. You have done well.” Cyclops made sure that his gestures were exaggerated. Without verbal communication, body language was all he had to go on. Ka-Zar stood up, and Scott gripped his arm, gesturing to the priestess. “Now, introduce me to the temple’s guardian.” 

Ka-Zar obediently led Scott to where the priestess was waiting. Zabu accompanied them, but Wolverine remained where he was, watching the unfolding scene carefully. Scott pushed aside the anxiety that he felt for the other man. The danger seemed to have passed. At least, for the moment. Wolverine would remain calm as long as Scott (or Ka-Zar or Zabu) weren’t threatened. 

Standing in front of the priestess, Ka-Zar made the proper introductions (or what Scott assumed were the proper introductions since the Hannanaki language remained a mystery to him). When the introductions were over, the priestess said something to Ka-Zar that caused the other man to lean toward Scott and drop his voice. 

“She’s asking for a demonstration of your power,” Ka-Zar explained. “Not that she doesn’t believe in it, but she wants to see it for herself.” 

“The ole ‘shock and awe’ tactic,” Scott said, a little dryly. 

“Whatever works,” Ka-Zar replied.

Showing the Hannanaki his power was better than using it against them, Scott reasoned. He turned, searching for a suitable target. He didn’t want to do any further damage to the outer wall. Setting his beam to a wide angle, he cut a long swathe across the tree line beyond the perimeter. There were gasps and murmurs all around him. Shock and awe, indeed. 

When Scott faced the priestess again, the admiration and respect on her face was unmistakable. She was beaming. She clapped her hands again, and the Hannanaki surrounding them stood up. The guards had been dismissed. They began to trickle away, heads bowed low until they passed Scott and his companions. Then the handmaidens approached Scott and began to guide him to the entrance of the temple. Zabu remained by his side. The priestess led the way. Scott nodded to Wolverine over his shoulder, indicating that the other man should follow. He did, falling into step beside Ka-Zar, both of them trailing behind the priestess, Scott and the handmaidens.

The entrance hallway was spacious, allowing four people to walk comfortably side-by-side. Torches lined both walls at regular intervals. The group emerged onto a large, open space, one where Scott imagined gatherings took place, judging by the raised stone platform at its center. 

The priestess didn’t stop at this atrium, instead turning left into another hallway that was a little wider than the entrance hallway. Ka-Zar had subtly managed to make his way to Scott’s right, smiling at one of the handmaidens to give him access. Scott glanced behind him to check that Wolverine was still bringing up the rear. He was. Zabu had fallen back to keep Wolverine company. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” Scott asked Ka-Zar quietly. 

“Yes,” Ka-Zar said. “They call it the Chamber of Life. It’s basically a fountain and a pool. Don’t be alarmed, but they’ll expect you to take a ritual bath.” 

“Why would I be alarmed?” 

“Well,” Ka-Zar shrugged. “In another context, the water might look like it’s radioactive.” 

Scott glanced sharply to his right. 

“It’s not,” Ka-Zar assured him. “But it’s definitely been treated with something. That water is the reason I can understand the Hannanaki now, and why they can understand me.”

“Explain.” 

“I accidentally fell into the pool while I was looking around.” 

“You accidentally _fell_ into a pool of sacred water?” Scott wanted to sigh. 

“Not my best moment,” Ka-Zar admitted. “But hey, look where we are now.” 

Scott did sigh. “What happened next?” 

“One of the handmaidens found me. Imagine my surprise when I could understand her,” Ka-Zar added. “She brought me to the priestess, and then I told the priestess a story.” 

“That I was the God of a Thousand Suns?” 

“It sounded good at the time,” Ka-Zar grumbled. “It still sounds kinda good to me.” At Scott’s thin-lipped expression, Ka-Zar continued. “I knew that if I didn’t show up at the cliff that you’d come after me. So, I told the Hannanaki that you’d arrive unexpectedly with your faithful sabretooth tiger – sabretooths are sacred animals to them, by the way – and your Wolverine. Your animal warriors.”

“And that’s why the Hannanaki ambushed us?” 

Ka-Zar shrugged again. “The ambush was a test,” he admitted. “The Hannanaki wanted to make sure that I wasn’t lying. They also wanted to see your abilities, see if you were truly a god.” He grinned. “You didn’t disappoint, Cyclops.” 

“Maybe,” Scott said seriously. “But Wolverine, Zabu and I caused a lot of carnage and destruction. Perhaps that could have been avoided.” 

“Perhaps,” Ka-Zar hedged. “My assessment of the Hannanaki as a warlike tribe isn’t false. They needed that show of force, Cyclops. It made them believe in your power.” 

“This is the same tribe that almost sacrificed me a few days ago. And now they think that I’m a god?” 

Ka-Zar sighed and shrugged. It was a shrug that said, _What can you do?_

The group had stopped. They were in a spacious chamber adorned with many exotic plants. At the center of this chamber was a fountain of water that flowed into a medium-sized rectangular pool. Even if Ka-Zar hadn’t told him that the water was treated, Scott would’ve noticed how it glowed eerily. He couldn’t tell what color it was, but the water shimmered like phosphorescence through his visor. The handmaidens lined the sides of the pool, three on each side. The priestess stood at the foot of the pool, gesturing for Scott to enter the water. Scott noted that the water flowed from the mouth and hands of a large statue at the far end, a statue shaped like a man but with none of a man’s hard edges and planes; where joints and angles should have been were instead soft, smooth, curved surfaces. Scott wondered if the statue was in the likeness of the Celestial. It seemed possible. 

The priestess gestured again for Scott to enter the pool. Scott glanced at Ka-Zar for further instructions. 

“Just walk in,” Ka-Zar told him. “You don’t need to strip. But make sure you submerge your head in the water. Count to ten for good measure.” 

Scott followed Ka-Zar’s instructions, motioning to Wolverine to stay put when it looked like the other man was about to follow him.

The water was warm when Scott waded into it. It didn’t burn or tingle. It glowed against his skin, but otherwise there was nothing to differentiate it from ordinary water. Scott strode into the pool. At its deepest, the water was chest high. Remembering Ka-Zar’s advice, he took a deep breath and then allowed himself to sink to the bottom, crossing his legs when he reached the pool’s floor. He counted to twelve, studying the pool as he did so. There was nothing remarkable under the water, save for the vents that filtered the water out and back into the statue to maintain the cycle. 

When Scott surfaced, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t feel any different. The first thing his gaze landed on was Wolverine and the other man’s concerned, watchful expression. He gave the other man a quick nod, an assurance that everything was all right.

As soon as he stepped out of the water, two handmaidens approached and draped him with a cloth that was meant to be a robe. The priestess stepped in front of him and spoke clearly. 

“Welcome, Lord Cyclops, God of a Thousand Suns.” 

Scott thought that he hid his surprise well, even if Ka-Zar’s experience had prepared him for understanding the Hannanaki. 

The priestess stepped forward, arms outstretched and bowed. She straightened up, her gestures fluid and graceful. 

“We have prayed to the gods to send us another savior,” she began. “At last, our prayers have been answered. Thank you, Lord Cyclops, for gracing us with your presence. We are here to serve you. I am Loanna, the priestess of this temple.” 

“Loanna,” Scott repeated. “Please, call me Cyclops.” 

“Yes, Cyclops,” she said, with another deferential bow. 

“How is it that I can understand your speech?” 

“Like your herald, you have bathed in the Water of Life,” she said, motioning to the pool.

Fell _in the Water of Life_ , Scott mentally corrected. 

“You are now one with the Forbidden Island,” Loanna explained. “All that we are is now open to you: our language, our animals, our strength, our healing. The Star Giant has given us these things in the Water of Life.” 

“Star Giant?” 

Loanna pointed to the statue. “Our God and Savior,” she answered. “You know him, yes?” 

Scott nodded. “I know of him,” he clarified. “My people call him the Celestial.” 

“Celestial,” Loanna repeated, slowly nodding. “It is a fitting name for one from the heavens,” she agreed. 

“Tell me, Loanna. How may I help you?” 

Loanna paused, her expression growing troubled. “The Dark Walker slumbers,” she began. “But his sleep grows restless. We fear that the ancient machine is failing. We seek your guidance, God of a Thousand Suns, on how to sustain the machine and keep the Dark Walker contained.” 

“Show me the chamber where the Dark Walker slumbers,” Scott told her. “And I wish to see your ancient machine.” 

“This way.”

Loanna dismissed the handmaidens, leading Scott and his group out of the chamber. They traversed the main atrium again, walking to the opposite side of the grand room. Here, the passage was the narrowest that they had entered so far. At the end of the passage, there appeared to be an altar. At the center of the stone table was a smaller statue of the Star Giant; at the corners of the alcove were two other statues, though they served a more decorative function of being torch bearers. Loanna approached the altar, twisting the statue of the Star Giant first one way, and then another. The wall behind the altar shifted. It was a door. Loanna pushed open the wall the rest of the way, revealing a darkened stone staircase. She took one of the torches, indicating that Scott should take the other. He did.

The stairs were steep. They went down in single file with Loanna in the lead followed by Scott, Ka-Zar, Wolverine and Zabu. Scott passed his torch to Ka-Zar to give the others more light. At the bottom, they stopped in front of another wall. Once again, Loanna placed her torch in the torchbearer on the left, while Ka-Zar held his aloft. Scott wasn’t sure what Loanna did this time to open the wall-door, but after a moment, the wall shifted inward like before. This time, there was no need for torches. As soon as the wall swung open, light spilled into the passageway. 

They followed Loanna into the room and it was like stepping into another world. 

The stone architecture of the temple was gone, replaced by ascetic metal surfaces and electric lighting. The room was an antechamber. If there had been any doubt that the Star Giant was an alien with advanced technology, this room obliterated it. 

“Come,” Loanna said, unfazed by their new environment. 

Ka-Zar gave a low whistle. “Alien technology,” he said, quietly.

Scott nodded in agreement, glancing at Wolverine as he did so. The other man was looking around him curiously, Zabu keeping close to him. As though he could sense Scott’s gaze, he looked in Scott’s direction. Scott gave him a faint smile, which Wolverine met with a solemn expression. 

“Cyclops,” Loanna called. “This is the chamber of the Dark Walker.” 

Remembering the layout of the temple, Scott realized that the antechamber led to the area directly underneath the atrium. He wasn’t surprised that a massive holding cell had been built under the temple. This was the ‘tomb’ that he had seen on the paintings in Wolverine’s cave. He wondered how many sub-levels the temple contained, or if this was the only one.

In the center of the massive room, the creature whose face adorned the back wall of the temple was suspended in a clear tank. It was floating in some kind of liquid, a tube covering what was presumably its nose and mouth. It eyes were shut. Loanna had moved to a control panel with various readings and indicators. Scott joined her, wondering how much of the equipment Loanna understood. 

As if reading his mind, Loanna began to explain the different readings, pointing out the creature’s vital signs, telling Scott of the nutrients that treated the liquid. 

“It’s not a cryo stasis then,” Scott murmured. “These readings are all steady,” he said, gaze scanning over the panel. “How do you know that the Dark Walker’s slumber has been disturbed?” 

“Because the power to the ancient machine has begun to fail.” Loanna looked troubled. “Each time the power to the creature’s chamber is disrupted, the disruption risks awakening the Dark Walker. Thus far, that has not happened. But Chief Tokar swears that the Dark Walker opened its eyes during the last failure.” 

“How many times has the power been disrupted?” 

“Four times in the past three months.” 

“With increasing frequency?” 

Loanna shook her head. “The disruptions occur every three weeks, so far. If the pattern continues, there will be a disruption next week.” 

“Where is your power source?” Scott asked, suspecting that it wouldn’t be as simple as recharging a battery. 

“This way.”

Loanna walked to the other end of the room, inputting a code into a keypad. This was the room beneath the Chamber of Life. As if to prove Scott’s point, the Water of Life flowed down the far wall where the statue would have been, but didn’t collect into a pool at the bottom. It was simply one continuous sheet of water. 

“The Water of Life is your power source?” he asked. 

Again, Loanna shook her head. “ _That_ is the power source,” she replied. 

Finally, Scott saw what she was pointing at, a large glowing cylinder that ran from the floor to the ceiling of the room. It throbbed with each passing strobe of light. He approached it, examining the casing and the surrounding area. It didn’t take Scott long to figure out what he was looking at. He motioned for Ka-Zar to join him. Loanna kept a discreet distance away, while Wolverine and Zabu remained further in the recesses of the room.

“Do you know what that is?” Ka-Zar asked in quiet tones. 

“I can make an educated guess,” Scott answered. “Loanna says that this is the power source for the Dark Walker’s chamber, but it’s more than that. This is also the signal generator that you suspected was here.” He pointed at a series of glowing vertical markings that rounded the base of the cylinder. He suspected that another set that he couldn’t see, circled the top of the cylinder. “I’ve seen similar technology among the Shi’ar.” 

“That’s encouraging,” Ka-Zar said. “So, what do we do?” 

“We need to find the communications room – package – whatever they have here,” Scott replied. “It must exist.” 

“If this is both the signal generator and the power source of the chamber,” Ka-Zar began, thinking aloud. “Its failure would awaken the Dark Walker, but also allow you to contact the X-Men.” 

“I think it’s obvious that we can’t allow the power to fail,” Scott pointed out. “But you were right again, Ka-Zar. There is a way to reach the X-Men – and the outside world – without destroying the power source, without even _reducing_ it.” 

Ka-Zar chuckled. “When I spun that story for Loanna and her people about you being a sun god, I did it so we could get in here. But you know what, Cyclops? You really are going to be able to help these people.” 

Scott gave the other man a rueful grin. “It’s what the X-Men do.”

* * *

Scott decided to save establishing communications for the morning. Based on what Loanna had told him, the temple didn’t expect a power disruption until the following week. Surely, everything would stay intact for one more night. 

Although Loanna had been wary of Ka-Zar’s story, she’d given him enough credence to have rooms prepared for both Scott and Ka-Zar. That’s where both men retired now, Scott making a big show of Zabu staying with Ka-Zar (no need to take the charade so far), while Wolverine remained with him. The three handmaidens that Loanna left with Scott to ‘assist’ him were quickly dismissed, especially when Scott saw the look on Wolverine’s face. 

The room, according to Loanna, was meant for the Star Giant or any other godly guest of honor. No one had stayed in it since the temple’s construction, but it was meticulously maintained. It also made Scott realize that the Star Giant must have had some way to shrink his size because it would have been impossible for him to fit in the room otherwise. As to be expected, the room was spacious with an equally spacious adjoining bathing chamber. It was also filled with modern comforts like a real king-sized bed, on which clothes, mostly composed of robes and wraps of a luxurious material had been laid out for both of them. The single bed, however, did give Scott pause. Did it mean that Loanna expected him to share the bed with Wolverine (which was a given for Scott), or did she think that Wolverine was some kind of guard dog that slept on the floor? Either answer was slightly disturbing in its own way, but Scott didn’t dwell on it. 

Instead, Scott brought Wolverine to the bathing chamber, where he was relieved to find hotel-like amenities: scented soaps, fragrant oils, towels and a scented viscous liquid that Scott took to be shampoo. Wolverine didn’t resist when Scott led him to the large bathing pool, not even when Scott began to scrub him with the soap or lather his hair with the shampoo, the dried blood washing off and staining the clear water. 

“You’re sad,” Scott commented, his voice soft.

Wolverine had been subdued since they’d entered the temple. As the threat of danger had grown more distant, his curiosity had been piqued by the new environment, even as he’d sensed a distinct change. Things were moving too quickly for him to understand, but he knew that his new mate was the instigator of these changes. These people – whom Wolverine had fought many times – respected and feared his mate. He was proud of that, but also vaguely threatened. He feared that these people might end up taking his mate away. 

Wolverine didn’t react to Scott’s soft words, nor to the kiss that Scott planted at the base of his neck. He allowed himself to be drawn into Scott’s embrace, resting against him in the pool, but not putting the full weight of his adamantium skeleton on the other man. 

They stayed there a while, until Scott had sufficiently pruned, although the lengthy submersion had no effect on Wolverine. Then they dried themselves and went to bed, folding the clothes to be used in the morning. That night, Wolverine was the little spoon.

* * *

At breakfast the following morning – held in another spacious chamber that looked more like a conference room – Scott asked Loanna about the communications in the temple. 

“Loanna,” he began. “When you said that you prayed to the gods asking for assistance, how did you do it?” 

Loanna served Scott more fresh fruit replying, “Through the usual rituals and customs.” When Scott’s expression said that she should elaborate, she added, “Song, dance, sacrifice, and the special signal directed at the stars.” 

Scott smiled. That was what he had been hoping to hear. 

“The special signal directed at the stars,” he continued. “Did you send that signal from the temple?” 

“Yes,” Loanna answered. “The machine was built by the Star Giant.” 

“I would like to see that machine.” 

“Of course.”

After breakfast, Scott asked for a more thorough tour of the temple and its sublevel. The tour ended in the communications room where the ‘special signal’ was sent. 

“This looks familiar,” Ka-Zar commented, when Loanna had left them alone. 

“Indeed,” Scott agreed. 

Although the technology looked sleeker and more refined that its human counterparts, Scott had had enough experience with alien tech to know what to do with it. The first thing he did was reset the frequency to match Cerebro’s wavelength at Westchester. If he was going to call home, he might as well call direct. Even if the Professor wasn’t using Cerebro, Scott was willing to bet that the Star Giant’s machine was powerful enough that he might as well be shouting in the Professor’s ear or any other telepath that happened to be around. He put on the semi-transparent helmet that Loanna had shown him, and powered up the machine. 

“This is Cyclops calling Professor X,” he said clearly. “Professor, do you hear me?” 

The reply was instantaneous. 

“Scott,” Charles Xavier said, his voice shot through with relief. “Are you all right?” 

“Don’t worry, Professor,” Scott assured him. “I’m fine. I’m with Ka-Zar, actually.” 

“Ka-Zar? In the Savage Land?” 

“The Forbidden Island, more accurately.”

“Why hasn’t Cerebro been able to read your signal?” 

“It’s a long story,” Scott said. “But the short version is the Forbidden Island is shielded by a signal generator designed and powered by alien technology. It also disrupts electrical systems. Ka-Zar and I managed to locate the source of the signal, and I’m using the machine now to contact you.” 

“You sound like you have quite a story to tell.” 

Scott laughed, relieved to be speaking to his mentor-father figure. “I do,” he agreed. “But we can save that for when I’m back at the school. For now, I need some things to help the Hannanaki tribe. They’ve been tasked with keeping an alien known as the Dark Walker contained. Their power source is failing and if that happens, the Dark Walker will be released.” 

“What do you need, Scott?” 

“Could I speak to Hank? I can best organize resources through him.” 

“One moment.” 

There was a lull in the connection as Professor X created a telepathic link with Hank McCoy. Then Scott heard Beast’s warm, friendly voice. 

“Cyclops, we were starting to worry about you.” 

“Starting?” Scott teased.

He flashed Wolverine a smile as the other man took a seat next to him at the console. Like with the Blackbird, Wolverine looked at the instruments but didn’t touch. Scott leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on Wolverine’s knee. The Hannanaki had provided Wolverine with different attire that morning, clothes more fitting for a warrior, complete with a headdress, as opposed to the ceremonial clothes that Scott had been given. 

“Some of us were more worried than others,” Beast said, good-naturedly. 

“Not you, I take it?” 

“You’re very capable, Scott, as this call proves. Now, what sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” 

“I need you to put a team together,” Scott replied. “We need to stabilize the power source of the Hannanaki. Their technology bears some similarities to Shi’ar tech, but I’m no expert. You should be part of the team, Hank. You might have the most experience with Shi’ar tech. Bring Forge. Doctor Nemesis, if he’s available. The other members you can choose at your discretion, but if the Dark Walker wakes, we might need serious firepower to subdue it.” 

“Copy that, Cyclops,” Hank replied. “I’ll enlist Storm and Iceman.”

“The signal generator not only shields the island, but it disrupts any technology that comes within a certain distance,” Scott explained. “It’s the reason why I crashed in the first place, and why Cerebro hasn’t been able to pick up my signature.” 

“Will you be good enough to take that signal down for us?” 

“No can do, Hank. That would wake up the Dark Walker, but I think I have a solution.” 

“And that would be?” 

“I believe that if we bounce back the frequency of the signal generator at it, the island’s defenses won’t register the Blackbird as a threat.” 

“Sound hypothesis. And I suppose you have that frequency?” 

“I’ll figure it out,” Scott said. “I’ll contact you again when I have it. How soon can you be here?”

“I’ll round up the team, pack the equipment, and get everybody aboard the Blackbird. We’ll leave tonight and be there early in the morning.” 

“I’ll ask Loanna to prepare rooms for you.” 

“Loanna?” 

“The high priestess of the temple.” 

“Scott, who exactly do these people think you are?” 

“Lord Cyclops, the leader of the X-Men.” 

“And?” 

“The God of a Thousand Suns.” 

That earned a guffaw. “I guess this is one of those times when it pays to be a walking weapon of mass destruction,” Hank said, a smile in his voice.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a perk,” Scott replied dryly, but with good humor. “The deity part was Ka-Zar’s idea. I’ll contact you again when I have the frequency.” 

“Will do, Cyclops.” 

The link with Hank disconnected and Scott shared a few more words with the Professor before he ended the call. When he was done, both Ka-Zar and Wolverine were looking at him expectantly. 

“Hank is preparing a team,” Scott explained. “They should be here by tomorrow morning. Ka-Zar, could you update Loanna? Ask her to prepare some rooms at the temple, if they have any spare lodgings. We’ll be expecting five to six people.” 

“All right,” Ka-Zar agreed. “What will you do?” 

“I need to figure out how this system works,” Scott replied. “If I don’t want another Blackbird to crash, we need to be able to give the team the correct frequency for the island’s signal generator.”

* * *

The rest of the day was uneventful. Ka-Zar spoke with Loanna as Scott had asked, Zabu accompanying him. Afterwards, Zabu was attended to by the handmaidens, making him preen at their cooing and fussing. 

“You’re just a spoiled baby,” Ka-Zar said, under his breath. But he, too, was amused by all the attention that Zabu received. 

Scott spent the rest of the morning learning as much as he could about the alien system. He was puzzled by the connection of the Celestial with seemingly Shi’ar technology, but chose not to dwell on it. It was fortunate that the tech bore so much resemblance to Shi’ar tech, since the Shi’ar were probably the alien race that the X-Men were most familiar with. It increased the team’s ability of being able to solve the Hannanaki’s problem.

Wolverine kept Scott company, although there was nothing for the other man to do. Scott could tell that he was bored, but Wolverine refused to leave, turning into a sentry as though Scott needed protection inside the temple. Since Wolverine wouldn’t leave, Scott kept him close. Close enough so that he could explain his progress, even if Wolverine couldn’t understand; close enough so that he could easily touch the other man through gentle pats and strokes. Physical reassurance was important and Wolverine was teaching him how to be tactile again. 

By the time the group met for lunch, Scott had narrowed the potential frequency of the signal generator to a small range, which he relayed to Hank, together with the coordinates of the temple.

“Is there room to land?” Hank asked. 

“More than enough,” Scott confirmed. “The temple is bordered by an open plain on three sides. You can land the Blackbird inside the perimeter, practically at the front door.” 

“All right,” Hank agreed. “As for the frequency, I’ll put the range you gave through a search algorithm. When we’re near enough to the Forbidden Island, the algorithm will run the permutations until it locks onto the island’s signal. And if it doesn’t find it . . .” Hank trailed off. 

“Have Storm control the wind currents so that you can land without crashing into the temple,” Scott advised. He could imagine Hank nodding through their connection. “If I’ve given you the wrong frequency, you geniuses can figure it out when you get here.” 

“We’ll see you soon, Cyclops.” 

“I look forward to it.”

* * *

After lunch, Scott sat with Loanna and watched the Hannanaki play a team game on the plain surrounding the temple. Ka-Zar, Zabu and Wolverine all joined in, although the natives were still understandably wary of Wolverine. Their wariness didn’t dampen Wolverine’s spirits, however. He was clearly happy to be outdoors. 

“Traitors, both of you,” Ka-Zar called out, when Wolverine and Zabu joined the other side. “How about you join my team, God of a Thousand Suns?” he asked Scott. 

Scott chuckled, holding up the cold drink that Loanna had given him. (The Hannanaki had the ability to make ice at the temple.) “I’ll sit this one out, faithful Herald,” he replied. 

Ka-Zar sighed and returned to the game. His team got their collective asses kicked, and Wolverine could not hide his glee at the outcome. 

The morning may have been busy and the afternoon relaxing, but the evening was full of activity. Loanna had sent a messenger to the village the night before to inform the village chief of the Sun God’s arrival. The Chief had decided that a feast celebrating their new savior was in order. By mid-afternoon, more villagers had arrived to prepare for the feast that was to be held on the temple grounds. 

Scott retired to his room with Wolverine, so as not to disturb the villagers during the preparations. The other man was in better spirits since the physical activity of the game, and it was easy for Scott to convince him to have another bath. In the bathing pool, Scott fucked himself on Wolverine’s cock. He lifted himself up and down, his hands on Wolverine’s broad shoulders for support. When Scott’s pace wasn’t enough for Wolverine, he gripped Scott’s waist and began to fuck into him, hips canting upward with each thrust. Scott let Wolverine take over then, sitting on the other man fully. Wolverine filled him completely and the angle was good. They came almost at the same time, Wolverine licking, but not biting down again, on the bruise on Scott’s neck. Afterwards, Scott rested against Wolverine, still full of his softening cock, and dozed lightly.

* * *

When the feast began, it was hard to remember that Ka-Zar had described the Hannanaki as a “violent, warlike tribe,” different from the tribes on the mainland. Perhaps with such a secret as they guarded, the Hannanaki had a right to be violent and warlike, but they showed no hint of that aggression as they welcomed Cyclops and his group to the village. There was song and dance, and copious amounts of food and alcohol. In celebration, the Hannanaki were warm, joyous and grateful. Scott supposed that being a god who had come to answer their prayers had a lot to do with that. 

Scott sat in a throne beside the village chief, whom Loanna introduced as Chief Tokar. Only the chief and the high priestess had access to the sublevel of the temple. Scott remembered the name. Tokar was the person who had seen the Dark Walker open its eyes. Scott asked the chief to describe to him the events of that day. He listened carefully as the chief detailed the power disruption (he had been at the temple at Loanna’s request). Then, Scott told him of his plans.

“My people will arrive in the morning in a black ship from the sky. They will bring the instruments needed to diagnose and fix the power source of the containment chamber.” 

Tokar nodded solemnly. “Your people will be well looked after during their stay,” he said, with a bow. “We are very grateful, Lord Cyclops, that you have come.” 

Cyclops kept his bemusement in check. Just a few days ago, he had been captured by the Hannanaki and was going to be presented as a sacrifice before Wolverine had saved him. Now, the Hannanaki believed him to be a god. Maybe this is what the Greeks meant by cosmic irony. 

The revelry lasted well into the morning. By then, the villagers were too tired and too drunk to make the trek back to their homes. They camped out on the plain under the stars, and fell into a sound sleep. The following morning, there was an incredible ruckus when the Blackbird appeared in the sky and then made its vertical landing. Most of the villagers ran away, afraid, but Cyclops, Tokar and Loanna, together with Ka-Zar, Zabu and Wolverine went out to greet the team. The remainder of the Hannanaki stayed a fair distance from the Blackbird as Cyclops strode forward. The back hatch opened and the team poured out. If Tokar and Loanna expected the X-Men to be respectful and bow to their ‘god,’ they were in for a surprise. 

Beast, who was the first one out, crushed Scott in a hug. More hugs followed from Storm and Iceman, a slap on the back from Forge, and a polite, but formal greeting from Doctor Nemesis. Cyclops then made the formal introductions with Tokar and Loanna. Loanna asked right away if Scott’s ‘followers’ would like to bathe in the Water of Life. Scott explained the properties of the water to the team. 

“It’s the reason Ka-Zar and I can understand their language,” Scott said. 

“We don’t need voodoo water for that, Scott,” Beast replied, good-humoredly. “There are AI algorithms now that can reconstruct an entire language with sufficient examples of vocabulary and syntax.”

“And you brought one of those AIs?” Scott questioned. 

Beast flushed a little. “Well, no,” he admitted. “I was rather occupied.” 

“We can take those special baths later,” Forge said. “I’m curious to take a look at the tech and the containment chamber. Haven’t had much of a challenge of late.” 

“Indeed,” Nemesis agreed. 

“Then, it’s settled,” Scott agreed. “Mission first, socializing later.” 

“Only you, Cyclops,” Bobby said, throwing an arm around Scott as the group began heading for the temple, “would go missing, crash land on an island that’s actually a containment chamber for an alien, be mistaken for a god, re-establish contact and then drag the team out on a mission to save said island from alien destruction. I mean, you couldn’t have just called and asked us to pick you up, right?” Bobby began to laugh at his own joke, until a sudden growl made him jump. “Whoa!” he said, springing to his left, and slightly cowering on Scott’s other side. “Who is _that_?”

Scott immediately grabbed Wolverine’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The other man was glaring daggers at Bobby. 

“That’s Wolverine,” Scott said. “He’s a little territorial.” 

“ _Very_ territorial,” Ka-Zar echoed from somewhere behind. 

“He’s also a mutant,” Scott added, “with a healing factor and razor claws. I’m hoping he’ll come back to the school with us.” 

“Why wouldn’t he want to?” Bobby said, who had moved to the other side of Storm. 

“I don’t know for sure,” Scott said. “He doesn’t speak.” 

“Doesn’t speak?” Bobby repeated, perplexed. “Then how the hell have you been communicating with him?”

“Creatively,” Scott deadpanned. 

Beast chuckled. “Non-verbal language is still a form of speech,” he said, giving Scott a sly wink. 

Scott didn’t react, but he thought of the bruise that was slowly fading from his neck. Beast also had heightened senses, including smell. Scott had no doubt that Beast could detect how much he and Wolverine smelled of each other. You didn’t need to be a genius to put two and two together. 

The chatter continued on the way to the temple, easy and relaxed. Scott was glad to have his friends around again. Whatever problems the temple faced, he was confident that the X-Men would be able to solve them.


	8. The Decision

In the end, the X-Men were guests of the Hannanaki for a little over a week. Scott informed Beast, Forge and Doctor Nemesis of the disruption expected the following week. That day came and went without incident since the ‘Science Club’ had things well in hand by then. While Beast and Doctor Nemesis dealt with the alien tech directly, Scott asked Forge to create an alternative power source as a contingency. Forge’s eyes lit up at the immense challenge. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Ororo muttered to Scott. 

“That’s why your boyfriend’s here,” Scott reminded her. 

“And I suppose I’m just the muscle?” she replied, dryly. 

“Very beautiful muscle,” Scott corrected. He was grinning. “Contrary to the look of our surroundings,” he added. “We’re not actually on vacation.” 

Ororo arched a brow. “Are you sure about that?” she teased. “The Hannanaki believe that you’re a god.” 

Scott gave a little shrug that said, _Ah, well_. 

“If any one among us should be mistaken for a god or goddess,” he said. “It should be you. After all, you’re the one with _experience_.” 

Storm laughed outright at that. “In that case, Fearless Leader,” she said. “Feel free to ask for my advice when needed.” 

“I’ll remember that.”

Despite Scott’s proclamation, the Savage Land trip did turn into something of a vacation for Storm and Iceman. Those two, as well as Beast, opted to take the ritual bath to remove the language barrier with the Hannanaki. Doctor Nemesis had never been one for socializing, and once Forge got wrapped up in a project, the rest of the world fell away. Nemesis and Forge spent nearly all their time in the temple’s sublevel, although Storm was able to coax Forge to get some fresh air every now and then. 

When she wasn’t checking up on her boyfriend, Storm spent much of her time learning about the local flora. She learned how to care for some of the indigenous flowers and the medicinal properties of the other plants. The Hannanaki were very willing to help her in her studies. Scott fully expected Storm to bring some specimens home to add to her garden. 

Iceman spent most of his time with the young warriors of the village. He’d often distract the guards from their duties, and teach them new team games. The children flocked to his ice slides. Scott was a little worried that Iceman was turning the plain surrounding the temple into a fairground, but since neither Tokar nor Loanna broached the topic with him, he let it be. 

As for Beast, he turned the trip into a cultural-anthropological-exchange extravaganza, learning as much as he could about this isolated, mysterious tribe when he wasn’t holed up with Forge and Nemesis. He meticulously documented everything.

“Are you going to publish a paper?” Bobby teased him. 

Beast harrumphed. “It isn’t out of the question, young Robert Drake.” 

“I’m only two years younger than you,” Bobby reminded him. 

“Yes, but you don’t _act _like it.”__

____

____

“We can’t all be serious geniuses.” 

“I have an _excellent_ sense of humor.” 

“You have an _intellectual_ sense of humor.” 

“It’s called ‘wit.’”

Scott left the banter to his friends, going off in search of Wolverine. Since the X-Men’s arrival, Wolverine had made himself scarce. The withdrawal worried Scott. Wolverine had already been somewhat depressed before the X-Men arrived. Things were worse now. Scott found Wolverine where he expected the other man to be – a small grotto near the back of the temple that connected to the sculpture of the alien creature. It had become Wolverine’s private spot. No one, except Scott and Zabu, disturbed him there. 

“Hey,” Scott said, sliding in behind the other man and wrapping his arms around him. 

Wolverine leaned back into Scott’s embrace, but otherwise didn’t react. They sat in silence. Silence was the norm for them, but it had turned contemplative and melancholic of late. Both men knew that big changes were in store. 

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Scott said, brushing back Wolverine’s hair. “But I think you already know that.” 

As if to change the topic, Wolverine turned around suddenly and pounced on Scott, pushing the other man onto the ground in order to kiss him. 

“You’re better at evasion than me,” Scott commented, but didn’t stop Wolverine from pulling off his briefs underneath the robe. 

They were late to dinner that night.

* * *

The day before the X-Men were set to leave, the Hannanaki held another feast for them, one even more spectacular than the feast to celebrate Cyclops’s arrival. It began with a ritual of thanksgiving and renewal, held in the main atrium of the temple and presided over by Loanna. Only select members of the Hannanaki were allowed to witness this ritual and presentation.

After that, the celebration moved outdoors. There was singing and dancing, and the evening performances were highlighted by a play that reenacted Cyclops’s arrival and the arrival of the X-Men. The play ended with a flash of light meant to show that the power source of the temple had been restored, and that the Dark Walker would continue its peaceful sleep. Wolverine stayed on Scott’s right the entire evening, as had become his custom, crouched on the ground next to Scott’s throne. He watched the performance impassively, Scott wondering how much of it he understood. _A lot_ , Scott would wager. The show was almost entirely visual, using the sort of mime that he and Wolverine had become almost fluent at. Throughout the performance, Scott would discreetly drop his right hand, stroking it through Wolverine’s thick hair. It was a comforting gesture that the other man appreciated. 

When the performance was finished and the Hannanaki broke off into more casual groups, Scott led Wolverine out of the festival area and brought him to the Blackbird. This jet was a modified Blackbird, not quite as sleek and stealthy as the jet Scott had flown. The X-Men had multiple aircraft at their disposal, and this one was often used during rescue missions. It had a larger cargo hold to carry supplies and equipment, as well as extra room for passengers.

Wolverine stopped at the back hatch, as he had with Scott’s crashed Blackbird. This time, Scott didn’t take his hand and lead him inside. He wanted Wolverine to come in of his own free will. 

“Come in,” he said, motioning with his right hand that Wolverine should follow. He was standing midway between the bottom and the top of the ramp hatchway. When Wolverine didn’t move, Scott strode the rest of the way up, disappearing into the Blackbird. 

He waited in the cargo area, unsure of what to do if Wolverine didn’t follow him. His tension bled away when Wolverine appeared. Scott gave him a warm smile, reaching for the other man’s hand. 

“I want to show you something.”

Scott walked to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot’s seat. He motioned that Wolverine should sit in the co-pilot’s chair. Wolverine did, but he looked deeply uncomfortable. Scott powered up the Blackbird’s systems and the cockpit lit up in the darkness. 

“Here,” Scott said, bringing up the navigation. A global positioning map appeared on the screen with a blinking dot to indicate the Blackbird’s position. “We’re here,” he said, pointing at the dot. Then he tapped himself on the chest and Wolverine’s chest before pointing at the dot again. “Here,” he repeated. 

Wolverine nodded. 

Scott keyed in the coordinates for the X-Men home base. A line shot out from the blinking dot, traveling across the map until it landed on another blinking dot. 

“That’s where we’re going,” Scott said. “Home.” He eyed Wolverine thoughtfully before deciding to try something else. Scott tapped himself on the chest again, but instead of saying his name, he said, “Home.” He pointed at the second dot and repeated the word, “Home.” 

Wolverine looked so mournful that Scott leaned over and gripped his hand earnestly. “You can come with me,” he said. “You can go _home_.” 

To emphasize his point, Scott tapped the other man’s chest and said the word, “Home,” before pointing at the blinking dot again. 

“We can go home together,” Scott said. “If you wanted to.”

There was no reaction from the other man, just the same sad expression. Scott could hardly stand to look at him. He was about to get up, when Wolverine’s gaze snapped to the back of the jet. He glanced back at Scott, his eyes saying that someone was there even though Scott hadn’t heard anyone enter. 

“Hello?” Scott called out. “Is someone there?” 

“It’s just me.” 

Ororo emerged from the back of the jet, walking up the aisle that led to the cockpit. “I was wondering who was here.” She stopped in front of the two men, looking first at Scott and then Wolverine, assessing the situation. “Is he coming with us tomorrow?” she eventually asked. 

“I don’t know,” Scott admitted. “But I don’t think so. He’s been depressed since we got to the temple.” 

“He knows your time together is ending,” Ororo said. 

“It doesn’t have to,” Scott countered. “But I can’t force him to come with us either. It has to be his choice.” 

“Maybe he belongs in the Savage Land, Scott.” 

“Maybe he doesn’t.” He looked at Ororo. “Do you know why I call him ‘Wolverine’? He’s not wearing them now, but when we first met, he was wearing dog tags. I read that name, together with a serial number but no affiliation, on those dog tags. That tells me that he had another life, that he wasn’t always like this. I don’t know what happened to him, but somebody, somewhere, surely does.”

“Or maybe it means that he got those dog tags from another soldier and kept them because he liked them.” 

Scott gave Ororo a wry grin. “Your hypothesis would have more credibility if I already didn’t know that Wolverine has combat training,” he replied. “He has the natural instincts of a fighter, but he’s been trained too. I’m certain of it.” Scott paused. “Don’t you think we can help him, Ro? He’s a mutant, like us. Maybe we can help him find his family, learn about his past. The mutants and the military have a bad track record. It isn’t out of the question that he may have been experimented on, possibly even tortured. Maybe that’s why he is the way he is. Can you imagine what the military would do to a mutant if they knew that mutant had the ability to heal himself?” 

“You’re painting a very grim picture, Scott.” 

“The world can be a very grim place for our species, Ro. That’s why we do what we do. So, we can change things for the better.” 

“And that’s what you want to do for Wolverine,” Ororo finished. “Are you sure it’s not just what _you_ want?” 

Scott almost sighed in exasperation. “Yes, it’s what _I_ want,” he conceded. “But I also genuinely believe that it’s the best thing for him.” He paused. “What do you think I should do?” 

“Are you asking for my advice?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think you should enjoy this night with him. And when tomorrow comes, you should let Wolverine decide what he wants to do.” She gave him a soft smile, lightly touching him on the shoulder. “But you already knew that, Scott.”

* * *

Scott woke bright and early. Beside him, Wolverine was still dead to the world, his head tucked into the crook of Scott’s shoulder and one arm thrown possessively around him. Scott knew that if he tried to move, the grip of that arm would reflexively tighten. He waited, wondering if this was the last time that he’d wake up next to Wolverine. Eventually, when Wolverine began to stir, Scott nudged him with his arm. Wolverine’s eyes flew open, immediately alert. 

“Big day,” Scott told him. “Lots to do.” 

Wolverine grumbled, turning over and burying his head in the pillows. Scott grinned at the reaction, but at least it gave him the freedom to move. He got out of bed and went to the adjoining bathing chamber. After a few moments, Wolverine dragged himself out of bed and followed.

As the Hannanaki’s guest, Scott had been wearing their clothes since he arrived at the temple, even though his friends had brought him his own clothes. Today was the first time he put on his X-Men uniform again. There was a finality to the act, a recognition that his time in the Savage Land was over. Wolverine seemed to be of a like mind, judging by the expression on his face when he saw Scott in full uniform. 

When they exited their room, the buzz around the temple was unmistakable. The first person that they ran into was Doctor Nemesis in a dapper suit. The man always wore dapper suits, even in the heat. Luckily for him, Storm had been kind enough to keep the temperature cooler during their stay. Plus, in Nemesis’s case, he’d spent most of his time in the underground alien laboratory. 

“Cyclops,” he said, in his distinctive European accent. “Would you like to make the final inspection of the containment chamber before we leave?” 

“Yes,” Scott said. “That would be good.” 

He fell into step beside Nemesis, Wolverine following behind, as Nemesis began to detail the final modifications that had been made. They joined Beast and Forge, who were already in the containment chamber, gazing at the sleeping creature. 

“What species do you think it is?” Forge was saying.

“Your guess would be as good as mine,” Beast replied. “It’s probably for the best that we haven’t found out,” he added. He brightened when he saw Scott. “Ah, Cyclops! Good, you’re here.” He also gave a little nod to Wolverine that the other man returned. Scott had noticed that those two had also developed their own kind of kinship, and he suspected that it had something to do with the beast inside both men. 

“Well, Science Club,” Scott said, standing at the center of their little group. “What do you have for me?” 

“Nothing but good news, boss,” Forge said. 

“For a change,” Nemesis said quietly. 

“The containment chamber is fully secure,” Forge went on, ignoring his fellow scientist. “Beast and Nemesis did a good job, not only diagnosing the problem with the power source, but also augmenting it.” 

“Bad circuitry,” Beast interrupted. “Wear and tear should be expected after thousands of years.” 

“What’s the augmentation?” Scott asked. 

“Improved system flow,” Nemesis answered. “We not only increased the power to the containment chamber, but to the entire temple, and consequently, the signal generator itself. That special water that you bathed in? Their Water of Life? It contains nanotechnology, which we’ve enhanced.”

 _Nanotechnology_ , Scott thought. _That explained a lot_. Those who had bathed in the water would have to get properly tested back in the mansion to see how else the nanotech had affected them. 

“And what about you, Forge?” Scott asked, recognizing the glint of satisfaction in the other man’s eyes. “What have you done?” 

“I was waiting for you to ask,” Forge said, cheekily. “The alternative power source that you asked me to create hasn’t gone to waste. I’ve attached it to the main system as a kind of back-up generator in case the system should go down for whatever reason. Amazing, that an advanced alien race didn’t think of that. I’ve also streamlined the communications. The system is powerful, capable of reaching across the galaxy, but unwieldy when it comes to earthbound communications. That’s to be expected since it wasn’t designed for local communications.” 

“But it is now?” Scott ventured. 

“It is now,” Forge said proudly. “In fact, the Hannanaki have a direct line to their ‘God of a Thousand Suns,’ in case they should ever need his help again.” 

“Ha, ha,” Scott said dryly. “And Loanna knows how to use this system?” 

“I’ve explained it to her,” Beast interrupted again. “She’s a very capable woman.” 

“She is,” Scott agreed. He looked at the pleased faces of his team. “So, that’s the final report?”

“One more thing,” Nemesis added. “We coded a message into the signal generator that will be broadcast periodically in multiple languages. It’s a warning for others to stay away from the island. We hope the warning will prevent future crashes like yours.” 

Scott nodded. “Good thinking,” he said, approvingly. Then he added, “You didn’t specify _why_ people should stay away from the island?” 

Nemesis’s sigh was pure exasperation. “The alien containment chamber would have been a little difficult to explain, Cyclops,” he said, a little primly. 

Scott smiled. Nemesis had even less of a sense of humor than him. 

“I guess that’s it then,” Scott said, bringing their impromptu meeting to a close. “Well done, everyone.” After a beat, he added, “I’ll expect your mission write-ups when we return.”

That prompted a groan from Forge, but Nemesis nodded. He liked the order that paperwork provided.

* * *

The last breakfast at the temple was spent with Chief Tokar and Loanna. Scott sat at one end of the long table, Tokar at the other. He watched as Wolverine restlessly moved the food about his plate. He nudged the other man under the table with his foot, making Wolverine look at him. Then he pointed at the food on Wolverine’s plate. There was a brief stand off before Wolverine relented, grudgingly picking up the Hannanaki’s special form of flat bread, similar to pita, and taking a bite. Satisfied that Wolverine was eating, Scott began to eat as well. 

After breakfast, there was still one more presentation before the X-Men could leave. In the strip of plain between the temple and the jet, the handmaidens of the temple formed a line, the X-Men standing opposite them. Each handmaiden presented an X-Man (or X-Woman) with a gift. Scott, as their leader, received two gifts: one from Tokar, and another from Loanna. 

Wolverine stood beside Loanna and Tokar. He’d been adopted by the Hannanaki, going from one of their most feared enemies to a protector of the village. His status as Cyclops’s personal guardian and favorite warrior had elevated him to a place of honor among the Hannanaki.

“We will look after him,” Loanna had said. “This temple is his home now, if he wishes it to be. There will always be a place for him here.” 

Scott had been relieved to hear that. It meant that Wolverine would no longer be alone, if he remained on the island. Now, however, was the moment of truth. Scott held out his hand and Wolverine grasped it. The X-Men, as well as Ka-Zar and Zabu (who were hitching a ride to the mainland), had already boarded the Blackbird. They were just waiting for Scott. 

Hand-in-hand the two of them walked to the jet, stopping outside the open hatchway. It could have been mistaken for any stroll on a lovely day, except for the tension radiating from both men. Wolverine, in particular, was gripping Scott’s hand tightly. 

“So,” Scott said, standing in front of the other man. “This is it. I’m going home, Wolverine. Home,” he repeated. Scott paused, gauging the other man’s reaction, memorizing the intense expression on his face. He touched Wolverine’s chest and then pointed at the open hatchway. “You can go home, too.” 

Wolverine held Scott’s gaze, finally shaking his head. At that moment, Scott knew what it felt like to have his heart crushed. That was as definitive an answer as he was going to get. 

“All right,” he agreed, keeping his voice steady.

He let go of Wolverine’s hand with some difficulty. Scott wasn’t one for big emotional displays, but the urge to kiss Wolverine at that moment was strong. It would be the good-bye kiss, the final scene in his unlikely bad romance novel set in the Savage Land. Instead, he reached out and ran his hand down the side of Wolverine’s face, fingers tracing the dark beard. Wolverine leaned into the touch. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Scott said, dropping his hand. 

He turned around and quickly walked up the hatchway. At the top, he released the manual lever that closed the hatch. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see Wolverine standing there. 

Scott’s shoulders slumped a little as he made his way to the pilot’s seat. Hank gave him a comforting pat on the back as he passed. The look on Bobby’s face was also apologetic, though he had nothing to be sorry for. Storm was waiting for him in the co-pilot’s chair when Scott took his seat. 

“Pre-flight checks complete,” she told him in a businesslike manner, but her eyes held the same apology that Bobby’s had.

Scott strapped himself in and fired up the engines, trusting that Wolverine would have enough sense to move away from the Blackbird before take-off. Then he powered up the mag-gravs and vertical thrusters. The Blackbird thrummed with life. Checking that everything was clear across the board, Scott began the Blackbird’s slow ascent. Everything was going well until there was a terrible sound of rending metal and the Blackbird’s rear dipped down. 

“Whoa,” Scott said, trying to keep the jet level. He was met with resistance. He’d need to land in order to see what was wrong. 

“Um, Cyclops?” came Iceman’s uncertain voice. “I think we have an extra passenger.”

Scott instantly knew what that meant. In his haste, he landed the Blackbird with less finesse than he would’ve wanted and was out of his chair in a heartbeat, hitting the button that would open the back hatchway as he went. He was only halfway down the aisle when he saw Wolverine stalking up the ramp, claws extended. The other man looked _pissed_. 

When Scott came to a stop in front of Wolverine, the claws retracted. Scott was grinning a little maniacally. “You’re so dramatic,” he told the other man, crushing him in a hug.

Wolverine returned the hug, exhaling loudly as he did so. Zabu had also jumped up to greet him, and now the sabretooth tiger was circling the two men, rubbing his large body against them. When they broke apart, Zabu arched into Wolverine, looking for a pet. Wolverine obliged, stroking Zabu on his head and then scratching behind his ears. 

“Take care of him, Zabu,” Scott told the sabretooth tiger. “I need to see what damage he caused.” 

“Need help?” Forge asked, materializing by Scott’s side. 

“It looks like a patch job,” Scott said, inspecting the gashes that Wolverine had made in the Blackbird. Thankfully, the other man hadn’t hit any of the jet’s vital systems. “I don’t want her to ice up in the higher altitudes.”

“We could fly lower like a commercial plane, for a change,” Forge suggested. At Scott’s unimpressed look, he added, “Which would double our flight time. Okay, okay. I got this, Cyclops.” 

Forge began digging out his tools for the patch job, while Cyclops settled Wolverine in the back of the jet with Ka-Zar and Zabu. 

“And what happens when we get off?” Ka-Zar asked Scott, as they watched Zabu and Wolverine messing about. 

“I’ll ask Storm to take over flight duties, and I’ll join Wolverine here,” Scott answered. 

Ka-Zar grinned at him. “You got your happy ending, Summers,” he said. 

“I don’t know about that,” Scott replied, thinking of all the work that lay ahead of them to uncover Wolverine’s past, wondering what they might find. “Maybe this isn’t a happy ending yet,” he said. “But it’s a start.” 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> The merry mutants belong to Marvel. No offence is intended; no profit is being made.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Instinct - accompanying art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792667) by [CrowSizna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowSizna/pseuds/CrowSizna)




End file.
